Stick-Up
by Nikkette
Summary: Daryl Dixon has had a rough life. Foster homes, detention facilities, criminal records, you name it. So when he and his older brother Merle devise a plan to rob a local gas station for some extra cash, it's nothing new. But he isn't counting on the beautiful woman working there the night they pull the heist. DarylxCarol/Caryl.
1. Plans and Complications

**A/N: What is wrong with me? I've got 5 other stories up that need finishing, and here I am posting another one. *Sigh* whatever :P**

**Just an idea that popped into my head at a completely unexpected time. I love TWD _and_ Caryl but I don't feel like I'm up to that level where I can go posting stories about it/them. But, this idea wouldn't leave me alone and someone else that read it said it was good, so, here I go.**

**As far as characters go, imagine Carol and Daryl from season 4, Merle from season 2, and everyone else from season 1.**

**Reading time: 8-10 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter one: Plans and Complications~<p>

* * *

><p>"You ready, little brother?"<p>

Daryl gazed outside the passenger window of his older brother's beat up Mazda, staring intently at the little gas station from across the parking lot. It was past eleven o'clock, and aside from the lights of the station they were parked under and the glow of the flickering neon letters of the building beside them, it was pitch black out.

They'd been planning this heist for weeks. Well, his brother _Merle_ had. Daryl had mostly just agreed to it. But they were at that point where they didn't need to go over every detail together. One trusted the other, and that was that. When their mother died and their father wanted nothing to do with them, Merle had decided he was going to tough it out on his own, and that apparently meant taking his little brother with him.

They'd had their run-ins with the law along the way; Merle had been arrested on several occasions for drug possession, violence against an officer of the law, assault, murder, resisting arrest, embezzlement, speeding...the list went on and on. And Daryl was no different. He hadn't done anything as bad as his brother, of course - he had more sense than that - but he was no saint; he'd been arrested and sent to juvie and later jail on numerous occasions while Merle had been away trying to earn some cash and put food in their stomachs.

You would think that after all that, after all those years of constant failure, they would have learned by now. Merle would wise up and get a job, a _decent_ one, and Daryl would stay in school and make a better person of himself.

But, they hadn't.

And here they were now, at the ages of 28 and 35, about to rob a damned gas station for some spare dough.

Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek as he continued to stare at the lonely building. Aside from him, his brother, and the workers, there was no one else around. But then again, they'd planned it that way.

"Little brother? You ready?"

He exhaled, snapping out of his reverie to answer his brother. "...Yeah."

Merle clapped his shoulder. "Great, let's do it."

They pulled the bandanas hanging around their necks up and over their noses.

"Here, take the cash bag."

Daryl grunted as he caught the black duffel bag being haphazardly tossed at him, sending a half-hearted glare at his big brother, who only grinned in return.

Leaving the car running, the two brothers exited the vehicle, and, guns at the ready, stalked towards their target.

* * *

><p>They walked in like it was nothing.<p>

They had it all planned out perfectly. They knew where the security cameras were, which ones actually _worked_, the employees' shifts, the times when the most and least amount of people would be there. Everything. And that was how it was supposed to go.

Swift and fast. In and out.

The bell sounded as they stepped in the door, signaling their arrival, and they immediately pulled out their guns, eyes sweeping the counter and aisles for the workers.

One by the refrigerator section. One in the candy aisle. One at the counter.

Three. Perfect.

Merle shot once, twice into the ceiling to get their attention.

"Alright, everybody down!"

The panic that followed was immediate. The three workers crouched to the ground even before he had said anything, their hands already above their heads, fear in their eyes.

Merle pointed his gun at the two workers in the aisles, a black man and a blonde woman, his voice muffled by his bandana. "You two! Over to the counter! _Now!_"

They complied immediately, clearly terrified, and Daryl kept watch outside the windows as they moved to join the person behind the counter. Merle tapped him on the shoulder, and he withdrew his attention from the fill-up stations and parking spaces and followed his brother over to the checkout counter.

The blonde woman began to cry, her ponytail shaking with her trembling body. "_Please!_ Please, we don't-"

"Aw, quit yer _whinin_', blondie," Merle snapped, aiming his gun at her. "You do what you're told an' you'll get outta this juuust fine."

She shut her mouth, keeping her hands above her head as the black man tried to shush her.

Movement.

Daryl snapped his gaze to the third person behind the counter, aiming his gun at them.

"Hold it right there."

They froze.

Their back was to him, arms above their head, but their left arm was slightly lower than their right, as if they were reaching for something. A gun, maybe.

Merle, still pointing his gun at the other two, looked appraisingly at his brother's sharp eye.

"Well, lookie here," he chuckled. "Now, now, Honey Buns, none o' that _panic button_ shit. Take your hand away, now."

They slowly obeyed.

"That's right." Merle grinned beneath his mask. "Now turn around. Come on, now."

The person slowly turned around, keeping their hands up, eyes down. Daryl's eyes widened.

It was a woman.

She had short, curly hair, brown but slightly grey, and her face was soft and gentle. She didn't look much older than he was.

She slowly lifted her eyes - a pale but pleasant shade of blue - looking first at the barrel of his gun, then at him. His breath hitched as their eyes met, his gun faltering ever so slightly.

"Alright, now be a good girl and open up that there register." Merle's voice broke the spell he was under, and her eyes slowly shifted away from his and to his brother's.

"It'll be alright, Andrea," she said to the crying woman behind her, her eyes like steel as she stared at Merle. "T-Dog and I won't let anything happen to you."

Unlike her coworkers, her expression was not of fear, but of determination. Readiness. Calm. She slowly reached a hand towards the register, eyes downcast in an almost defiant way. She opened it, a hand in the air, the other reaching down to grab the money, and as Daryl watched her movements he swore it was like watching a damned ballet. All graceful and shit.

Willing himself to snap out of it, he gripped his gun tighter and kept it steady, gaze flicking briefly over to the other two - Andrea and T-Dog - cowering beside her.

He swallowed, breath billowing hotly around his covered face as his heart beat faster and sweat began to collect at his forehead.

This was taking too long. _She_ was taking too long.

Stepping closer, he raised his gun to her forehead. "Hey, hurry it up," he snapped, growing impatient.

She froze for only a moment before speeding along and gathering the money into her hands at a more desirable rate. As they waited, Daryl glanced down at her name tag.

Carol.

Her name was Carol.

He didn't know much about names, least of all _girls'_ names, but he decided that, at that moment, Carol was as good a name as any. Beautiful, even. It suited her.

Carol finished gathering the cash, and as she moved to hand it to him, their eyes met once again. He froze, looking from her to the money, brain suddenly unable to make the connection between it and the reason he was there to begin with. Luckily, Merle was able to fix that for him pretty quick.

"What'd, your _brain_ fall outta yer head, man? _Take the cash!_"

Merle stepped up, brushing roughly past him and snatching the money from Carol's hands, stuffing it in the black duffel bag his little brother held. He slapped him on the back.

"C'mon, let's go!"

Daryl blinked, suddenly remembering where they were, and stole one last glance at the woman behind the counter before turning and following his brother out the door and making a run for the car.

* * *

><p>Merle hollered happily as they sped down the street, running a stop sign and making a sharp turn around a corner.<p>

"Woo! That was some steal, huh, little brother? We'll have to do that again sometime!"

Daryl said nothing, pulling his bandana back down below his chin as he tried to count the money in the bag while dealing with his brother's crazy driving. He tried not to, but he couldn't stop thinking about the woman at the gas station. The way she _looked_, the way she'd looked at _him_...it was like she understood. They didn't _want_ to do this, they _had_ to. Well, maybe _Merle_ wanted to, but that was besides the point.

He scoffed at himself.

Damn woman was messin' up his counting.

Merle hollered again, laughing as he grabbed Daryl's shoulder and shook him roughly.

"Hahaa, how much we got in there, brother? _Shit_, I reckon we got enough to start makin' a _life_ for ourselves! Maybe even get some _girls_, too! That one back at that gas station there was easy on the eyes, wouldn't ya say? _Damn_, shoulda caught her name..."

Daryl didn't know all that much about life (at least not the one his _brother_ was envisioning) and he didn't know shit about girls, but he knew two things for sure;

Her name was Carol.

And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, there's the first chapter. I hope you liked what you read. Assuming you read the whole thing, that is. Lol.**

**I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but I have an idea. **

**Anyway, thoughts are welcome. Reviews, views, faves, watches, whatever :)**

**'Til next time!**


	2. Second Meeting

**A/N: Thanks for all the views, favorites and follows, they mean a ton :)**

**Axelrocks: Eeee! I gotta say, my face really lit up when I saw your review. Seriously, I feel like a celebrity has reviewed my story X3 I LOVE All Angel, No Wings, and to have you review is just awesome XD**

**wildcow258: Thanks a ton! I'm glad you find the concept as interesting as I did! :D**

**Twdcaryl: Thank you! I'm glad you like it so far! :D**

**Oh, and just so you know: till is slang for cash register.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter two: Second Meeting~<p>

* * *

><p>The $323 they had stolen from the gas station went by pretty fast.<p>

Merle had used $150 to pay the rent for their shitty apartment so they could have a place to crash for another month, $28 on shaving cream, razors, and toilet paper, $75 on beer and takeout, and Daryl had spent $63 on a couple shirts and a new pair of pants.

That left them with $7.

Daryl lay on the couch of their rundown apartment, idly flipping through the channels on their antenna tv. Merle sat sprawled lazily in a chair to his right, staring into the ceiling, bored. It was Wednesday morning, just over a week after they had pulled the heist, and already they were hurting for cash.

Daryl exhaled, frustrated, as he stopped at a cartoon channel.

It made him so _angry_, sometimes, when he thought about their situation. They'd steal just to get by, saying it was 'only temporary' or 'just for the month' and that they'd get jobs and _do_ something with their lives, when not two weeks later they'd be out doing the same thing. Just one shitty place after the next. Nothing changed.

Nothing was getting better, and it wasn't going to. But he'd never say that to Merle. He'd just slap him upside the head and tell him to get his facts straight or some other bullshit like that. He loved his brother, but sometimes (a lot, lately) he was full of shit.

Merle sighed from his place on the recliner, turning his head to stare uninterestedly at the television. "Well, what do you reckon, little brother? What're we gonna do now that we've spent every penny from our last haul?"

Daryl said nothing for a moment, just chewed his thumbnail and switched the channel. "I dunno...maybe rob another gas station?"

His older brother lifted a beer bottle to his lips, taking a generous swig before replying. "That don't sound like a bad idea, considerin' how well we did the last time. Got any place in mind?"

Daryl's eyes shifted from the tv to Merle, trying not to look too hopeful.

If he was being completely honest with himself, there hadn't been a day gone by since their last robbery where he didn't think about Carol. It was stupid, he knew, and _childish_ and _immature_. He would never in a million _years_ be able to make her look his way if he wasn't holding a gun to her head - she was way out of his league, he _knew_ that - but it didn't stop him from trying. From hoping.

He briefly cleared his throat before going through with his suggestion. "Well, what about that place we robbed last week? That was good money."

Merle seemed to consider the idea. "Hmm...we've never hit the same place twice...I like the way you think, little brother. Outside the box and all that. I like it."

He grinned at him, and Daryl smiled in return.

"We'll hit it tonight. Poor bastards'll never see it comin'. Haha!"

Merle took another swig of his bottle, and Daryl looked back to the tv. They were going back to the gas station. _Tonight_. They were going to get more cash...

He was going to see Carol again.

* * *

><p>They parked at one of the gas pumps and walked into the station, just like before, only this time, only one worker was there.<p>

Daryl's eyes scanned the aisles, searching for Carol.

She wasn't behind the counter, like before, only that blonde woman (Andrea? Was that her name?). There was no one else around. Where was she?

Merle walked up to the counter, bandana up over his face, gun concealed in his jacket, as Daryl slowly followed and continued to search for the woman he was looking for, disappointment sinking in the pit of his stomach.

"Can I help you?" Andrea asked boredly, not looking up from the book she had on the counter.

Merle smiled beneath his mask and pulled out his gun. "Yeah. You can do us for all the money in the till."

Andrea froze, slowly looking up from her book to meet his eyes, her own widening considerably.

"Well, don't just _stand_ there, gorgeous," he said, pointing to the register with his gun. "Give us the cash!"

She jumped at his raise in voice, and immediately her hands darted for the cash register. Daryl observed her as she opened it up and gathered the money with shaking, unsure hands - not at all like Carol's.

After a few seconds, Andrea had taken all the cash out of the register and laid it out on the counter for Merle to take. Daryl stepped forward and pushed it all off of the counter and into the bag he held, zipping it up and moving to leave.

Merle caught his shoulder. "Woah, woah, hold up, man." He turned to the blonde, eyes wrinkling with the smirk hidden beneath his mask. "Take us to the back."

"The _back?_" Daryl echoed.

"Yeah, the back," Merle said, still staring at the trembling woman. "Come on, now, I know you've got a safe. Let's go. Come on."

He tilted his gun to the side, signaling for her to move, and Andrea obeyed, hands up, looking just as terrified if not more so than she had when they'd been there last week.

"Lead the way, little lady."

Daryl could hear the smirk in his brother's voice.

* * *

><p>Andrea led them to the back of the gas station, past the restrooms and into the employee section.<p>

She stopped just outside the door leading to the break room, seeming to have no intention of letting them inside.

"Well?" Merle said, nudging her back with the barrel of his gun. "Open the door, Blondie. We got a _safe_ ta open!"

It took her a moment, but Andrea inevitably moved to open the door. She unlocked it with the employee's key hanging around her neck and cracked the door open.

"...Guys?" she asked, looking back at Daryl and Merle. She looked like she was going to cry. "U-uhm...d-don't panic, okay?"

Averting her eyes from them, she slowly pushed the door open and went inside, Merle prodding her along with his gun. Once they were inside, Daryl snatched the key off of Andrea's neck and shut the door.

His heart was pounding in his ears.

They had never done something this big before. Merle must have been desperate, or out of his mind. Or both. Clenching the key with sweaty hands, Daryl shoved it into his pocket and turned around, scanning the room.

It was small; plain white walls, a table with a few chairs, a mini fridge in the corner, and a safe on the far end. Aside from Andrea, he noticed two others standing to the side, hands above their heads. One of them was a man, the black guy from before (What was his name? J-Dog? R-Dog?) and the other, a woman.

Daryl's breath hitched beneath his mask.

It was Carol.

* * *

><p>"Alright, now <em>this<em> is how it's gonna go," Merle said easily, carelessly flailing his gun around. "_You're_ gonna tell me the combination to this here safe, I'm gonna open it _up_, and _he's_ gonna keep watch over y'all." He nudged Daryl in the shoulder, causing everyone's eyes to fall on him, but he only looked at one. Carol.

"Now, _which_ one of y'all knows the combination?" Merle asked, waiting for one of them to speak up.

Carol's mouth twitched, and eventually, she opened her mouth to speak. "It's 21-23-52," she said, giving Merle a hard glare.

Daryl stared at her lips, watching as they moved. Even her _voice_ was beautiful. It was damned ridiculous. Carol's eyes swept back to his, and he immediately looked away, focusing instead on the floor just below their feet. He had never been so glad to have that damned bandana over his face.

"Well, my hat tips to you, Beautiful," Merle said, tipping an invisible hat. He walked over to the safe, inspecting it, before turning around and addressing Carol again. "Say...what's your name, woman?"

"It's _Carol_," she replied, looking at the floor. She sounded annoyed for someone who was being held hostage.

Merle, however, didn't seem to take notice. "Well, _Carol_...I might be seein' you again later...Come to think of it, I may have seen you somewhere before. Have I seen you before?"

"Yes, that's why I don't go there anymore," she replied curtly, still not looking at him.

He laughed. "Hahaha! Girl's got a mouth on 'er, don't she? I like that in a woman."

He stepped forward past Daryl, and Daryl wanted to tell him to _stop_ messing around, to just _get_ the money and _go_, but he bit his tongue.

He watched, silent, as Merle raised a hand to touch Carol's hair. She swiftly moved her head away, as though trying to dodge a gnat or fly, and his hand missed, instead touching nothing but air. Merle smirked beneath his bandana, brushing his fingers against her cheek before dropping his hand and walking back over to the safe.

Daryl let out a breath, glad that he'd stopped. A woman as pretty and dignified as Carol didn't deserve to be fondled, let alone by the likes of his _brother_. But then again, she didn't deserve to be held hostage, either.

He dropped the duffel bag that held the money from the register to the floor, swallowing nervously as he kept his gun trained on the three employees. His eyes drifted over to Carol. He tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it. She was just so damned beautiful. He just hoped it wasn't obviou-

Carol's eyes darted over to his, looking at him with a strength and determination that startled him.

His gun visibly faltered, and he struggled to keep it steady under her gaze. He wanted to avert his eyes, embarrassed at being caught, but at the same time, he couldn't look away. And then the craziest thing happened.

She smiled at him.

It was as if they were communicating with nothing but looks, and in that moment, they understood each other. And nothing else existed but the two of them.

"Ha! Got it!"

And Merle.

"Alright, get the bag over here and grab this here cash!"

Daryl reluctantly broke his gaze away from Carol's and went to join his brother, snatching the duffel bag off the floor and unzipping it. He kept it open while Merle shoved the money into the bag, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind telling him he was doing something wrong. Unfortunately for him, he should have listened.

"AARRGH!"

Without warning, a pair of large arms wrapped around Merle's neck and tightened, choking him.

Daryl jumped back, his gun skidding across the floor as his gaze shot to his brother's attacker.

It was T-Dog.

* * *

><p>Without thinking, Daryl hurled himself at the man, sending them all sprawling to the floor.<p>

He managed to wrap an arm around his neck, but it only made him squeeze Merle's own neck tighter. Someone screamed in the background, probably Andrea, but Daryl paid it no mind as he began to beat T-Dog with his fists. He punched him repeatedly in the ribs, the kidneys, and eventually he loosened his hold enough for Merle to wriggle free.

Daryl relaxed his hold on the man's neck and stopped hitting him as he saw his brother was fine, but all that managed to do was let the guy roll over and start beating on _him_. The guy had a pretty strong punch, he'd give him that.

T-Dog had only thrown a precious few punches before he was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around by Merle, his jaw quickly becoming acquainted with the older man's fist. T-Dog was sent sprawling backwards, landing slightly on top of Daryl, out cold.

With some difficulty, he managed to push the unconscious man off of him and stand up, straightening his bandana around his face, eyes wide, heart racing. He looked up; Merle was already at the door, duffel bag in hand.

"Come on, let's go!" he shouted, gesturing towards him with his free hand.

Daryl looked back to T-Dog, then over at Carol.

She held Andrea in her arms, who was crying, staring with wide eyes at her coworker's motionless body. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes slowly swept up to his. Their eyes met only for a brief second, but it was enough to make him feel _terrible_.

"Come on, let's GO!" Merle hissed, frantic.

Tearing his gaze away from the woman, Daryl turned on his heel and followed Merle out the door, his own panic causing him to move at a much faster rate than what was normal for such a simple job.

* * *

><p>They ran like their lives depended on it.<p>

The two brothers darted through the gas station, weaving between aisles and dodging the cameras, when halfway out the store, Daryl stopped, a sudden wave of emergency slamming into him, ultimately causing Merle to do the same.

"What the hell're you _doin'?_ We gotta get outta here!" He yelled, ushering him forward.

Daryl quickly searched the pockets of his jacket, panic rising within him. It wasn't there. It wasn't there, it wasn't there-

"I left my _gun_ back there!" He said, frantic.

Merle cursed. "_Shit!_ Well, hurry up, we can't leave any evidence! Go!"

Daryl turned and darted in the opposite direction, heading back to the safe room.

Andrea screamed in fear when he reappeared, and Carol moved to stand protectively in front of her while his eyes swept the floor in search of his weapon, doing a full 360.

It wasn't there.

It wasn't anywhere.

Where was it?!

A click sounded beside him, and Daryl slowly turned to face the noise.

It was Carol.

Carol was holding his gun.

And it was pointed at him.

* * *

><p>Daryl's breath caught in his throat, fear seizing him as he froze, eyes locked onto the barrel of the gun.<p>

He swallowed, feeling a drop of sweat glide down his forehead. He could only pray she wouldn't pull the trigger. But judging from the look on her face, those chances were slim.

He slowly backed away, holding his hands up, and Carol moved forward, keeping Andrea behind her as she stared him down.

This was it. He was going to die at the hands of the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and with his own _gun_, nonetheless. He was going to die, and Merle would go to jail, probably prison, and live out the rest of his life behind bars. And all at the hands of this woman.

But then something happened, a miracle.

Her grip on the gun loosened, and, with a look of finality, she lowered the weapon.

Daryl stared at her disbelievingly, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"...Go," she said.

And he did.

* * *

><p>Merle's head snapped up, spotting his brother running toward him.<p>

He immediately noticed that he wasn't holding a gun. "What the- where the hell's your _gun?!_"

"_Forget_ it, let's just get outta here!"

Merle didn't argue, and he held the door open as Daryl made his exit, following closely behind him.

* * *

><p>As they hopped in the car and sped away, Daryl's mind couldn't stop wandering back to what had happened.<p>

Merle started to chew him out for leaving his gun at a crime scene, but the words fell on deaf ears as he recovered from the initial shock of having left the gas station at _all_.

She had let him go.

Just like that.

Sure, she would probably call the police now and track them down using the fingerprints off his weapon, but still, she hadn't killed him. And even now, as they sped towards their home with nothing but a bag full of cash and their lives intact, it was good enough for him. He didn't know what they were going to do once they got back to their apartment, _or_ how they were going to spend the cash or hide from the cops, but one thought rang true;

It was good enough for now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope this is a satisfying direction to take the story, it took me a while to think of it. **

**I've got another chapter already written, which has significantly more Caryl in it, so I mostly know where I'm going with it now.**

**In the meantime, reviews and thoughts are welcome :)**

**'Til next time!**


	3. Hostage

**A/N: 11/16/2014 This chapter and the next (which I will post tomorrow) are actually the same one, I just split them up because I felt like it was too long...plus, this was the perfect place for a cliffhanger XD**

**Tinkerbell99: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it so far! And you're right, this is a story with so many different possibilities it's crazy. I just hope you end up liking the direction I take this :)**

**Prettyprincess45: Thanks, Caryl is one of my top five OTPs too! :D I hope you like this update!**

**wildcow258: Thanks again for another review! I'm glad you like the way I write Daryl and Merle in this story, I was kind of antsy about that XD**

**Merlefan27: Lol thanks, I'm glad my story 'intrigued' you XD**

**tdcaryl: Thanks a ton! I'm happy you think I write the characters okay, even though they're in an AU. I can't say how long this story will be, because honestly I'm just making it up as I go along, but it'll probably end up being at least 10 chapters ;)**

**annibelle: Thank you! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter three: Hostage~<p>

* * *

><p>"Merle, what the hell are you <em>doin'?!<em>"

Daryl looked accusingly at his brother, who was busy packing their things. After robbing the gas station for the second time and just _barely_ getting away with it, Merle had driven them straight home and started stuffing what little things they had into trash bags that served as temporary suitcases.

Merle barely glanced at him as he made his way into the bedroom. "What are you, _stupid_, man? We just robbed a safe and left a gun at the crime scene! We gotta get _outta_ here, and we gotta do it quick!"

He moved around his younger brother to grab the last remains of their clothes, but Daryl's hand shot out to stop him and shove him away. "Man, what are you _talkin_' about? We can't leave! We just _got_ here!"

Merle looked at him with an expression of confusion, which slowly morphed into understanding, and then, finally, smugness. "Ohhh, _I_ see what's goin' _on_ here. You're sweet on that Mama _Doe_ back there, ain't ya?"

Daryl bristled, mouth twitching. "_No!_ I just don't think we should keep _runnin'_ everywhere we go, that's all."

Merle grinned at him. "Nah, I see right past _that_ bullshit. _You_, sir, have been bitten by the _looove_ bug, hahaha!"

Daryl looked to the ground, face red as a tomato as his brother proceeded to laugh at him.

He should have known he couldn't hide anything from Merle. He'd always been the one to see through his bullshit, even since they were kids. And now the truth was out - he only wanted to stay because of Carol. He supposed there was really no reason to be ashamed, but in the presence of his brother, he was. And it was damned near suffocating.

Merle continued to laugh, tears in his eyes, and Daryl suddenly decided he'd had enough. He reached out and shoved him, pushing the older man into the empty closet behind him.

"_Woah_, there, little brother, it's all good!" He managed through his laughter. "Ah...aha, _oh_, okay...okay, I'm good now...hahahaha!..."

Daryl watched, tight-lipped as the sound of his laughing slowly died, trying his damnest to glare a hole through his skull.

Merle pushed himself off the closet door he was slumped against, eyes still wrinkled in mirth, and rested a hand on one of the full trash bags that lay on the bed.

"Woo...okay, little brother. You win. We'll _stay_ so you can romance your little _Bunny-Boo_, and then we're outta here. That sound good to you?"

Daryl shoved him again, harder this time. "_Shut up_, Merle..."

"Ahahahahaaa!"

He stalked out of the room as his brother burst into another fit of laughter.

* * *

><p>Daryl awoke the next morning on the king-sized mattress, feeling <em>far<em> less than rested, and grumbled.

There were no windows in the bedroom of their apartment, but the sunlight streaming in through the open door was less than inviting to his sensitive eyes, so he rolled over onto his stomach, paying no mind to the trash bag he knocked onto the floor, and crammed a pillow over his head, annoyed. This lasted for no more than a few seconds, however, before his name was called from the other room.

"Hey, baby brother! You up yet?"

Daryl growled beneath his pillow, hardly in the mood to be up and moving around so early. But nevertheless, he complied. After all, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

Savoring the last few moments of rest, he slowly crawled out of bed and into the living room, wondering what the hell could have been so important that Merle wanted to drag him out of bed at ten in the morning.

* * *

><p>The first thing that hit him was the smell.<p>

Daryl shuffled across the living room and over to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the smell of sizzling bacon invaded his nostrils. His mouth watered.

"...So what'd you want me in here for?" he asked, voice slurred with sleep.

Merle grinned from his place by the stove as he watched over the bacon. "I got a surprise for ya."

Daryl scoffed, not believing it for a second. "_Really?_"

He turned the bacon. "Yep."

Daryl watched as he turned off the stove and heaped the food onto a plate, taking a piece and popping it into his mouth. "...Well?"

Merle lifted his eyebrows at him. "Well, what?"

"You gonna tell me what it is?"

"What what is?"

"Man, don't play _dumb_ with me! You _just_ said-"

"Haha, I know, little brother! I was just messin' with ya!"

Running a frustrated hand over his face, Daryl walked over and took a piece of bacon, savoring the taste as he chewed.

"...So _what is it?_" he snapped, glaring at his brother.

Merle smirked. "Well, grab your coat an' I'll show ya."

Daryl sent him a look, glaring through his rather _full_ mouth, but complied anyway. Annoyed, he swallowed his food and walked over to the closet door to grab his jacket, angrily swinging it open. His eyes nearly popping out of his head when he saw what was on the other side.

A figure- no, a _person_, sat huddled on the floor of the closet, their hands, feet, and mouth tied with duct tape, a blindfold over their eyes. It was a woman with short, greyish-brown hair. Fair skin, soft hands...

Daryl froze.

It was Carol.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: DUN, DUN, DUUUUNN :D**


	4. Decisions and Bathroom Breaks

**A/N: 11/17/2014 I'm back! Just like I said I would be! :) And sorry! I didn't think I'd be killing anyone with suspense, but I suppose I was wrong, haha ^^;**

**wildcow258**: **Is THIS chapter fast enough for you?! :D And thanks, I'm glad you liked it! Yep, Merle is trying to help, but he's more of an 'action' guy than 'talk' guy, meaning he doesn't really think about the consequences until it's too late, lol.**

**annibelle****: Woah! Talk about a passionate review! Thanks, lol! X's and O's to you too! :D**

**Tinkerbell99****: Thank you! I'm glad it surprised you! And it's okay, I don't mind hearing the same thing twice. Or four or five times for that matter XD**

**Prettyprincess45****: Ah! I'm sorry! D: Hopefully this update will help, as there is NO cliffhanger! :)**

**Reading time: 10-15 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter four: Decisions and Bathroom Breaks~<p>

* * *

><p>"What in the hell were you <em>thinkin'?!<em>" Daryl hissed, trying to keep his voice down.

After discovering their 'guest' in the living room closet, he had taken his brother and dragged him into the bedroom and away from prying ears. To say he was angry was an understatement. He was _pissed_. He was beyond pissed. He was furious. Livid. In a rage. There were few words that could accurately describe what he was feeling.

Merle only laughed, having no intention of keeping _his_ voice down, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, no reason to get your _feathers_ all in a ruffle! After our little spat last night, I decided to go out for a while - you know, roam the town. And then I came across that little gas station we hit and I saw that lil' Mama Doe walkin' home from 'er shift. And I thought, 'hey. Daryl ain't never gonna have the _balls_ to talk to this woman face to face.' And so I nabbed her. Figured it was easier than all that 'talking' bullshit."

Daryl barely resisted the urge to start beating the shit out of him.

"Man, what the hell is yer _problem?!_ They're gonna come _lookin'_ for 'er! What if she's _married?_ What if she's got _family?_"

"Married women wear rings, and married women with _families_ don't go prouncin' around town without a car. Trust me, I know."

He wasn't quite sure why he was so relieved by that.

"...Well, what're we gon' do with 'er now? She can't see our _faces!_ She can't even be let outta that damn _closet_ without seein' where she's at and tattlin' on us!"

"Hey, you know me. I don't think ahead that far. We needed to get that gun back, you needed to finally get laid. Way I see it, I solved two problems at once."

Merle grinned, and Daryl roughly shoved him back, turning and walking towards the door.

"Shut up, Merle..."

* * *

><p>Daryl silently sighed, resting his head on his hands, thumb jutting into the underside of his chin, as he sat in the recliner - their <em>only<em> recliner - across from the closet.

After debating about it for over an hour, Merle had announced he was leaving to run an 'errand' and that he'd be back 'soon'. Whenever that would be. And so, that left Daryl alone with himself, his thoughts, and the scared woman gagged in his closet.

He reached into his pocket and dug out the key - the key to the break room, the safe. Andrea's key - and turned it over in his hands, staring at it.

He'd spent the better part of an hour staring at that stupid thing and trying to decide what to do with her. Should he let her go and hope she wouldn't call the cops? Keep her there until they got busted for kidnapping? Try and talk to her? Calm her down? It really shouldn't have been so complicated, except that it was.

After all, his brother was right.

He'd _never_ be able to work up the nerve to talk to a woman like that. Under normal circumstances, anyway. If he let her go now, he would probably never see her again. But if he didn't, if he tried to be nice and get to know her, that would backfire, too.

Because things in his life always did.

They never worked out the way they were supposed to, the way they _would_ have were it some other person's life, someone else's shoes. Guys like him just weren't important. They didn't do good, they didn't ride off into sunsets or get applauded for their courage and bravery, and they most _certainly_ didn't get the pretty female lead.

And he himself was by no means in a leading role. Or even _supporting_ role, for that matter. No, he was the redneck vigilante with nothing going for him, who got no mention in the credits and got shot and killed or taken to jail by the hero five minutes into the film. Whoever he was, the hero was more deserving of the woman sitting not fifteen feet from him now than he would ever be.

Daryl sighed again, having made up his mind, and put the gas station key back in his pocket.

Grabbing the spare bandana sitting on the small table beside him (which happened to be Merle's) he stood up from the beat up recliner his brother favored so well and started to make his way over to Carol.

He walked, trying to keep his footsteps light as he approached the closed closet door. He couldn't hear her breathing, but he knew it was on purpose; she was trying to hear what was going on around her, trying to get her bearings. He couldn't blame her. He just hoped she wouldn't freak out on him once he opened the door.

Daryl wrapped a hand around the doorknob, slowly turning it and opening the closet.

Carol sat there, much the same as before, but the duct tape around her hands was stretched, almost to the point where she could wriggle free if she really tried. He glanced at her feet, seeing the tape was stretched there as well, and the corners of the piece of tape over her mouth were peeling away from the sweat that ran down her face.

Ignoring the pang of guilt that washed over him, he knelt down to her level and put his brother's black bandana over his nose to hide his face, swallowing nervously.

He reached over and gently put a hand on her shoulder, nudging her, and she stiffened immediately at the contact. He ripped the tape over her mouth off, and her lips pursed at the sting.

"Hey..." He tried to keep his voice hushed and gentle, but it came out sounding more like a hobo with a throat problem.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. "You, uh...you gotta use the bathroom?"

It was a stupid thing to say to someone you were trying to land a good first impression with, and he mentally scolded himself for it, but given the circumstances, he knew she probably had to go. He sat, squatted beside her, and waited for her answer.

It never came.

He waited, seconds turning into _ages,_ and after a few moments, he thought she wasn't going to answer at all (why would she waste her time on a piece of redneck trash like him?) but then-

"...Yes."

Daryl's head shot up, surprised she was bothering to talk to him. It wasn't like she had to, but he supposed that (given the subject) it _was_ kind of necessary.

"...Alright," he said, nodding even though she couldn't see him. "Here."

Without explaining any further, he leaned forward and scooped her up into his arms, bracing himself against the door frame as he stood up.

Woman was heavier than she looked.

Carol froze, quiet as a mouse as he carried her over to the bathroom, and as he maneuvered around empty beer bottles and soda cans and fast food bags, he was thankful that she couldn't see the dilapidated state of their apartment - not that the bathroom was any better.

Daryl pushed the door open with his foot, walking inside and setting her down as gently as his spazzing muscles would allow.

He pulled out his switch blade from his pocket, and the sound of sharp metal made Carol panic and almost fall over were it not for him being there to catch her.

He pulled her back to a standing position, smoothing down the wrinkles in the sleeves of her dusty brown jacket as he tried to think of something comforting to say.

Unfortunately, nothing came to him.

Silently, he bent down and wrapped a hand around her ankle, keeping her steady, as he took the knife and cut at the tape around her legs.

Happy that she hadn't tried to kick his teeth in yet, he stood up and moved on to her hands, cutting through the tape with steady movements.

As soon as she was free, Carol bounced away from him, hands flying up to her face as she ripped the blindfold off to stare at him with wide eyes.

Daryl froze, eyes just as wide as hers, hands raised in case she tried to attack him.

Carol tore her gaze away from him, head darting this way and that as she looked around her - at the floor, the cabinet, the toilet, ceiling, sink - and then past him, to the room beyond.

Daryl grabbed hold of the door and slammed it shut, moving in front of it to block her view.

He hoped she hadn't seen anything; the _last_ thing they needed was for her to escape and go tell the cops. They continued to stare at each other, gauging what the other was doing, and Daryl shifted as Carol slowly moved to her left, afraid she was going to try something stupid.

She didn't.

"...I know who you are," she said, and from the look in her eyes, Daryl knew that (to some extent) it was true. "You were at the gas station last night...and the week before that."

Daryl nodded, sweat collecting beneath the bandana covering his face. "Yeah."

"What do you want with me?" she asked, brows knitted as she warily looked him over.

That was a good question. What _did_ he want with her?

It wasn't like he would have ever _dreamed_ of kidnapping some random girl and keeping her locked away in a closet for weeks, months, or even just a few hours. It was all his stupid brother _Merle's _fault, really, but he couldn't tell _her_ that. She would only use it against him. Of course, he realized that even letting her use their bathroom would probably bring about unwanted knowledge about him and Merle that could easily be used to her advantage, but he hadn't thought to check it and clear it out before bringing her there.

Shaking his head, Daryl finally answered. "...Nothin'."

This only caused her brows to knit even further, seeming confused as she stared into his eyes, probably trying to tell if he was lying or not. She must have been satisfied, because she said nothing in rebuttal.

With slow movements, Daryl backed away and grabbed the doorknob, gripping his knife in the other hand tightly.

It wasn't as though he intended to use it - he was no murderer, and he'd be damned if he was going to be stab a woman, least of all a pretty one - but he figured it was better to have the hint of a threat present to keep her from doing something they'd both regret rather than to take no precaution at all.

Opening the door, he backed out into the living room. "...Toilet works, but go easy on the flusher. It gets broke from time to time. Jus' gimme a holler when you're done."

And with that, he closed the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I honestly can't say when the next update will be because I haven't written it yet, but hopefully soon.**

**Anyway, I hope this chapter was to everyone's liking! I'd love to see what you think in a review! :)**

**'Til next time!**


	5. Becoming Acquainted

**A/N: 11/25/2014 Sorry I took a while to update, life decided to get in the way of my fantasy/creativity :P **

**I had someone else read this before I posted (you know, to make sure it was good?) and they told me it was too short and I needed to post another chapter or there would be riots D: lol so that's what I'm doing. A double-post! :)**

**Guest: Aw. You're so sweet, looking out for me like that :) But really, it's fine. I don't mind reading or reviewing something that someone else wants me to look at, and besides it's a great way to find new stories and great authors. Thank you, though :)**

**Prettyprincess45: That's okay! No rush! I wouldn't want to review a story either if _I_ came down with something D: I hope you're better by now, and I'm glad you like this story so much! :)**

**wildcow258: Yep, poor Daryl. And yep, very typical Merle. Hahaha yeah, even though he didn't have the best upbringing Daryl's still a gentleman who could still be embarrassed by the messy state of his home. Who wouldn't want that? ;)**

**SuperNeos2: Thanks, dude! **

**Guest: Yes, lots of tension! Glad you like it, and I hope you like these next 2 chapters! **

**Reading time: 5 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter five: Becoming Acquainted~<p>

* * *

><p>A few minutes after leaving her alone in the bathroom, Carol knocked on the door, signalling Daryl to come and take her back to the closet.<p>

He stood just outside the door now, bandana back over his face, as he heard her softly knock again.

He half expected her to be crying in there for an hour. He wouldn't blame her - after all, she was a single woman who had been kidnapped by an armed man and taken to a strange place with even stranger occupants. But she had done no such thing, just did her business and waited for him to come back, and for that, he was glad.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't opened the door yet, but he knew he was none too keen on stuffing her back in that dusty closet. Woman would probably catch something if he left her there again.

She knocked on the door again, louder this time, and he swallowed, finally deciding on what he was going to do.

Daryl gripped the doorknob, calling out, "You got yer eyes covered?"

She slowly answered, voice muffled by the wood. "...Yes."

"Alright, I'm comin' in."

He slowly opened the door, peeking around the edge to make sure she wasn't waiting on the other side with a razor or other makeshift weapon in her hand, and saw that she did, in fact, have her blindfold back on.

He moved to stand awkwardly in front of her, trying to make a healthy amount of noise to let her know where he was (even though it wasn't the smartest thing to do) and the two stood in awkward silence for the longest of seconds before he gained the nerve to reach over and grab her hand.

Carol snatched her hand away, startled, but relaxed when he took hold of it again, gentler this time.

Daryl backed away, slowly tugging her with him, and guided her out of the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Halfway through the living room, he decided he wasn't going to put her in the closet.<p>

Instead, he led her over to the couch and sat her down, moving over to Merle's recliner to sit across from her.

He sighed, the sound loud beneath his bandana, and gazed at the dirty spot on the carpet just between Carol's feet where Merle had spilled his beer a few weeks before.

He contemplated letting her take her blindfold off, but he knew she would only use the opportunity to plan her escape and, really, it wasn't like there was much to see in the first place.

"I don't have your gun."

Daryl's head shot up, eyes landing on Carol, not quite sure how to respond. When he said nothing, she continued.

"He- the other guy, took it from me when I was on my way home last night. So if that's what you're after, you can just let me go now. I won't say anything to the police, I promise."

He considered her offer, but knew deep down that he couldn't take it.

It wasn't that he didn't believe her - he'd believe the _sky_ was falling if she told him to - it was just that, after years of being out on the streets with Merle, dealing with low-lives and foster homes and scrounging around dumpsters for food, he had grown accustomed to never trusting anyone. It was common sense; after all, when you'd been let down as many times as _he_ had, you didn't tend to trust the words of a pretty stranger, no matter how truthful they seemed.

Daryl rested his elbows on his knees, fisting his hands together and putting them under his chin, and, sighing, replied, "I know. But I can't do that...'m sorry."

Carol deflated a little, shoulders sagging in defeat even though he was sure she knew it was a longshot to begin with, and sighed herself.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, when suddenly she said, "You're not like him."

He blinked, brows knitting. "...What?"

"That other man," she said, resting her hands in her lap. "The one who took me. You're not mean or cruel or heartless like him. You're...different."

Daryl pursed his lips, anger sparking briefly in his chest before ultimately fading back to where it came from.

He wanted to tell her to shut up, that she didn't know what she was talking about, that his brother was every bit caring and compassionate and worth a damn and not some cruel, heartless bastard, but he realized that if he had, he'd be lying.

Because she was right.

Merle _was_ all of those things, and more. It would be stupid of him to say otherwise. But he was his brother, and it was his job to defend him. What would he say if he were standing there right now, watching on as his little brother said nothing on his behalf? What did that make him?

Choosing not to answer either her statement or his thoughts, Daryl shifted in his chair and said, "You hungry?"

Carol tilted her head, and he imagined her eyebrows knitting beneath her blindfold at the oddness of his question (or maybe it was just the way he was blatantly trying to change the subject) and rather than answer, she did the strangest thing a person could do in her situation.

She smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I've been being _very_ careful lately when I spell bandana, because when I have someone else read through it to proofread they think Daryl's putting a banana over his face T_T gotta admit, though, that _is_ pretty funny XD**

**Anyway, go on ahead to the next chapter! :D**


	6. Soap Operas and Takeout

**A/N: I would really appreciate it if you guys checked out my Caryl oneshot I posted, To Dye For. It's kind of long but it's sweet and funny, so I think you'd like it. Only if you want to, though. I don't want to force reviews out of anyone D:**

**And although I don't really think it's that bad, I apologize for Merle in this chapter. I was trying to stay in character and we all know how offensive he can be. Also, Crime and Passion is (to my knowledge) not a real soap opera. I just made it up on the spot.**

**Reading time: 9-10 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter six: Soap Operas and Takeout~<p>

* * *

><p>"You actually <em>watch<em> this shit?" Daryl said incredulously, eyebrows pinched as he stared at the television.

After ordering Chinese takeout to put some food in Carol's stomach, the two engaged in a light conversation that somehow led to turning on the tv and watching a soap opera.

They sat in the same places as they had an hour ago - him on the recliner and her on the couch - while they ate and talked and watched..._that_.

Carol had been allowed to take her blindfold off a while ago - he wasn't quite sure himself why he had let it slide like that, but he was going to blame it on the great-tasting food sitting in his stomach - and she continued to eat from her little takeout box with a pair of chopsticks while he watched on, his brother's black bandana back over his face (he had eaten first, letting her regain her vision after he was done, so thus far his identity was still intact).

Carol smiled despite his negative outburst, and continued to stare at the screen while Fernando tried to win back the heart of Ellen while dodging Patricia who was running from Derrick...or some bullshit.

"I'll admit, it's pretty dumb," she said. "But it beats watching a golf tournament or C-Span. And besides, it's fun to see the ridiculous twists and turns the show makes before it gets cancelled."

Daryl scoffed. "_Please_. Ain't no man alive that would actually go through all that shit for some woman."

"I dunno," she said, tilting her head in thought. "I think it's kind of romantic."

She moved into a more cozy position, clutching the pillow that lay on the couch (their _only_ pillow) and using it to set her takeout box on, unintentionally sending a wave of air in his direction.

She smelled like roses.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What, so you want some kinda 'hero' or somethin'?"

She lowered her head, trying to hide a smile. "Yeah. Something like that."

He looked to the floor, feeling lower than the dirty carpet below his feet in that moment. "Oh."

A somewhat strained silence set in after that, but Carol opened her mouth again after about half a minute, determined to keep the conversation rolling.

"Um, _so; _do you have any favorite shows you like to watch?"

Once she looked away from the tv and saw the way he stared at her strange question, she blushed and looked away, fidgeting with her chopsticks.

"I'm sorry, that was a dumb question."

"No," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "'s fine. Uh...I like all sorts o' stuff. Don't really stay on one station."

"_Ah_," she said, raising her chin. "A _channel_ surfer."

He smiled beneath his bandana. "Guess you could say so."

"So what's one of your favorites? Or do you have one considering you flip through channels so much?"

"I dunno...I like watchin' Foghorn Leghorn when it's on."

Her head turned in thought. "Isn't that a cartoon?"

He froze. Surely she'd make fun of him now if he was going to hack on her soap operas when he spent _his_ days watching kid shows.

"Y...Yeah."

"Hm," she said, looking him over. "I never would have guessed."

Carol turned back to the television, and Daryl let go of a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, thankful that she didn't make a snarky joke or rude comment like his brother surely would have if he were present.

He turned his attention back to the tv as well, not quite able to shake the feeling that there was so much more to the woman in front of him than one would suppose, as he watched Fernando kiss Ellen tenderly on the screen.

* * *

><p>It was nearly three hours (and two episodes) later when things started to get a little hairy.<p>

Daryl and Carol were watching on intently as Fernando and Ellen's short reunion was halted by his dark past and her brother-in-law, George, when the front door to the apartment unceremoniously burst open and Merle's voice rang out from the short hallway behind them by the kitchen.

"Hey, little brother! You do the deed yet? I got takeout! Man, them Asians may be stiff, but they sure make good noodles!"

Daryl leapt from the recliner, bounding across the distance to the door and shoving Merle back just in time before Carol could see his face.

He pushed him back against the door, elbow digging into the older man's throat, as he hissed, "Man, what the hell's _wrong_ with you? She coulda seen yer _face!_"

Merle held his hands up, a bag in his hand and a grin on his face, as he replied, "Well excuse me, but I wasn't aware we were givin' special privileges to the hostage...you do 'er yet?"

Daryl pressed his arm tighter against his throat. "Shut up, Merle! I didn't do _nothin'_."

His brother scrunched his nearly nonexistent eyebrows together, pushing his arm off of his neck and giving him a look.

"Well don't that beat all," he said, shaking his head. "I go through all the trouble o' gettin' her and bringin' her here, and you're _still_ not man enough to-"

"Hey, _I_ didn't ask fer _nothin'_," Daryl spat, keeping his voice low. "And _she_ sure as hell don't deserve this anyway."

"Oh-ho-kay, then," Merle said, amused. "Next time you need help I'll be sure to withhold my services."

He scoffed. "Yeah, you _do_ that."

The two men simultaneously let out a forced breath, somewhat of a sigh but not quite, and Merle half-heartedly held up the bag in his hand.

"Hungry?" he asked.

Daryl looked to the bag, then back at him, anger dissipating as he rolled his eyes and said, "I already ate."

Merle smiled. "Good. Can't have ya starvin' now, can I? Now gimme my mask and get the hell outta my chair."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

><p>The rest of the night went by smoothly (well, as smoothly as it could have possibly gone with Merle there) and after another hour of listening to his older brother eat sloppily and make endless comments about how soap operas were 'gay' and only 'lonely housewives' watched them, the television was turned off and Carol was blindfolded again.<p>

Merle retreated into the bedroom, still laughing over the episode of 'Crime and Passion', leaving Daryl alone with a sightless Carol.

He reached over and nudged her hand. "You ready?" he asked, unhappy with the thought of shutting her in the closet for a whole night again.

She chuckled nervously. "Not really, but, you know...can- can I use the bathroom again before I go?"

He sat up, eager to oblige. "Uh, yeah, sure. Here."

Daryl stood up from the couch, taking her hand and guiding her to stand with him as he began to lead her to the bathroom once more.

* * *

><p>Two minutes later, he sat crouched in the doorway of the living room closet, fastening new strips of duct tape around Carol's wrists and ankles.<p>

"Sorry," he said, feeling every bit as apologetic as he sounded.

She smiled. "I know."

Daryl gave a lopsided smile, even though she couldn't see it, and he scooted away to stand up, stopping when her arms went out to rest blindly on his chest.

"Good night," she said, tone hopeful.

He sat against the door frame, frozen as his mouth refused to open properly.

He'd _never_ said good night to someone before, not even to Merle (he'd beat him up if he tried) so needless to say it was kind of a big deal for him to say it back. It was like saying 'thank you' when you were used to just taking everything you wanted from day one - you just didn't do it. Sure, it wasn't _that_ big of a deal - she was only being nice to him, after all - but it didn't make it any less difficult for him to get the words out.

"...G'night," he replied, voice straining a bit as he forced the sound from his mouth.

Carol exhaled and smiled softly at him (well, in his general direction) and let her hands fall back down to her lap as he moved to stand.

Daryl stepped back and softly shut the door, clicking the latch and letting go of the handle.

"Sweet dreams," he mumbled softly.

He turned off the lights and headed over to the couch, getting out a blanket and laying down.

After a while (he wasn't sure how long) his eyes grew heavy and he fell sleep to the sounds of emergency sirens and screeching tires, and the faint smell of roses on his pillow.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Can't say when I'll update again, but I'll aim for later this week.**

**In the meantime, I'd love to read your thoughts! Your beautiful, lovely, sweet thoughts from your pretty, gorgeous, _perfect_ little heads! :D**

**'Til next time!**


	7. Breakfast and Television

**A/N: 12/03/2014 Back with another update! "Ya love it?" :D (Beetlejuice quote)**

**Prettyprincess45: Thanks for the double reviews! They really mean a lot! ^^**

**wildcow258****: lol of _course_ you don't watch soap operas ;) And thank you! I thought it was endearing for Daryl to be into cartoons too!**

**xXMishaXx: Well wait no longer, because here's more! :)**

**Nobody: I know how you feel. I come across a really good story every now and then that I wish was completed so I could just breeze through it, but sadly, that's not the way it usually works out :( But hey, at least it gives you something to look forward to, right? Updates! Yay! :D**

**Reading time: 15 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter seven: Breakfast and Television~<p>

* * *

><p>Daryl's eyes slowly shifted open, revealing the blurry image of the cracked ceiling of he and Merle's apartment.<p>

He exhaled, long and slow, and rubbed the sand out of his eyes as he rolled onto his side on the couch, gaze landing on the closet a few feet beyond the coffee table.

The closet...

...The closet!

Eyes shooting open, Daryl leapt up from the couch, covers flinging about as he stood, now fully awake. He quickly walked over to the closet and flung the door open, freezing when his eyes locked on Carol.

She was slouched over, curled up in the corner of that damned tiny space, her neck lolled to the side in the most uncomfortable manner.

So it _wasn't_ a dream...

She must have still been sleeping, otherwise she would have jumped out of her skin when he wrenched the door open.

Her hands and feet were still taped together, and her blindfold remained securely in place. His heart tugged a little at the sight. He felt bad, having to tie her up like that. But it would be a liability otherwise, and Merle was sure to be riding on his ass about letting her run free yesterday. This would have to do for now.

Seeing she was okay, Daryl knelt down and slid his arms around her back and under her legs, scooping her into his arms.

He stood up and turned around, walking over to the couch and setting her down in the spot he previously occupied. He grabbed the covers off the back of the couch and carefully placed them over her, making sure not to wake her as he did so.

He stepped back and stared at her for a moment before leaning down and taking the blindfold off of her eyes and setting it aside on the coffee table.

He then walked over to the bedroom and peeked inside, seeing Merle wasn't there.

He wasn't surprised.

Merle was constantly gone at random hours of the day, with no explanation or reason or note saying when he'd be back. For all he knew he was just going out for a smoke, or doing a drug deal in a back alley somewhere. It didn't really matter. Merle always came back eventually, and he trusted him to do just that. Nothing else mattered.

Rolling his eyes, Daryl spun on his heel and walked to the kitchen, swiping his bandana off the end table as he walked past.

Breakfast wasn't gonna make its damned self.

* * *

><p>Carol awoke about half an hour later.<p>

He was busy scrambling the eggs when he turned around and found her sitting up on the couch, wrinkling her brows and squinting her eyes with sleep as the covers slipped from her shoulders and halfway onto her knees.

Daryl switched off the stove and hastily scraped the eggs onto a plate before wiping his hands on his jeans and, pulling his bandana over his face, walking around the counter and into the living room to meet her.

"Hey," he said, and she squinted up at him.

Light poured into the room through the mismatched curtains and broken blinds behind her, and when she smiled he swore she was a damned angel.

"Hey," she greeted back, smiling sleepily as she blinked slowly. She moved to stretch her arms, but found she was unable to when the tape around her wrists prevented any such movements. She looked down at it, as if only just remembering her predicament.

Daryl shifted on his feet. "Here, lemme get that for ya." He immediately knelt down and pulled at the tape, loosening it a bit before getting frustrated and just pulling out his knife.

He cut through the duct tape with ease, and Carol wrapped her fingers around her wrist when she was free, trying to ease the irritated skin. Daryl tried not to notice the marks the tape had left as he went on to her ankles.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, and he nodded.

"Yer welcome."

He placed his hands on his knees and stood back up, swallowing awkwardly before saying, "I made breakfast. Ya want some?"

She smiled softly up at him. "That'd be great. Thank you."

He nodded. "'Kay."

Daryl turned around and she stood up, following him into the kitchen. She sat herself down on one of the stools by the counter, and idly rubbed her hands together as she waited for him to bring the food over.

He set her plate of eggs and bacon down in front of her and sat down across the counter from her. He _prayed_ she wouldn't find anything wrong with it.

He and Merle had been having a cockroach problem lately, but he was pretty sure they'd stomped all the little bastards out. Still, that didn't mean they didn't find the occasional insect leg or hair or whatnot in their food from time to time. They'd never had much of a problem picking the stuff that didn't belong out of their dinner, though. Of course up until now they'd never had a reason to be ashamed of it.

Sure, Carol wasn't exactly a 'guest', but she was technically the only other person they'd had in their apartment (to his knowledge, anyway) and he wanted to make a good impression. If not with the apartment, then at least with the food. And the stakes were pretty high, considering she'd probably already made her mind up about him the second Merle kidnapped her. And not to mention Daryl was probably the _farthest_ thing from dignified, but he was no slob. He just hoped that it showed through.

Daryl held his breath as Carol took her fork and scooped a mouthful of eggs into her mouth, chewing slowly and carefully. She probably thought he was trying to poison her or something.

He tried not to look so tense, but it was a little disconcerting when the person you were feeding wasn't swallowing, _or_ taking another bite.

Eventually she swallowed the food in her mouth, and he practically sighed in relief-

"Did you put something in these eggs?"

He froze. "Uh...what do ya mean?"

She was quick to elaborate. "Well, it's just that I make eggs all the time and I can never get them to taste quite like this. Do you put something in them?"

He curled and uncurled his sweaty fist as it rested on the counter. "Uh, I just put some Spike in 'em, but...other'n that, that's it. I didn't do nothin' _funny_ to 'em or nothin'."

She looked at him contemplatively, albeit a little suspiciously. "Spike? Hm. I always just used salt and pepper. I suppose spices do make all the difference, though."

She went back to eating her food, apparently satisfied with his answer, and Daryl finally found it in himself to grab his fork and scoop up some of his eggs. Well, she hadn't said they _stunk_, so he supposed that was a good sign. Maybe he didn't have anything to worry about after all.

"These are really good, by the way."

He looked at her a moment, surprised. "...Really?"

She nodded. "Really, really."

Carol took another bite of her eggs and smiled broadly at him as she chewed, and Daryl couldn't find it in himself not to smile back - even if it was with half his face covered.

* * *

><p>"Hey, is this that show you were talking about?"<p>

Daryl tossed the dishes into the sink (gently, mind you. He had company, after all) and turned around to see Carol sitting on the couch and facing the television, controller in hand as she watched one of the morning cartoon channels.

She was watching Foghorn Leghorn.

He felt a shot of dread and embarrassment course through him, and he hastily made his way out of the kitchen and into the living room to join her.

He stood just in front of her now, feet glued to the floor as he watched on in horror as she continued to watch the screen.

He swore his cheeks were flaming. It was one thing to _talk_ about something you liked, but it was another thing entirely to _show_ someone.

His eyes flitted to the controller in her lap, and his hands twitched uncontrollably at his sides.

He wanted _so_ badly to rip it away from her and change the channel (or better yet, turn the whole thing off) but he found that in that moment he was having the hardest time moving. So he merely stood in place, unable to do anything but watch and wait for her to pass her judgement on such a childish show.

He began to stumble over himself, lips refusing to work properly as he tried to downplay it and act like it was no big deal - _anything_ to take her attention away from _that_. "U- uh, that uh...yeah. Y- you really don't have to watch it if ya don't want. It- it's pretty dumb..."

He stepped forward to take the remote, but she held it firm and waved him off. "I don't think so. I used to watch this sometimes when I was kid. It's nice to go back to that every now and then." Carol scooted over and patted the space on her right. "Come on. We can watch together."

Daryl looked from her to the spot on the couch, then back again.

When he made no move to join her, she rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, come on, I _know_ it's your favorite. You said so yourself. Now sit down. I haven't seen this show in ages. You can fill me in."

He reluctantly complied.

* * *

><p>Daryl was stiff as a board as he leaned back on the couch, looking sideways at the woman sitting not two inches away from him as she watched the screen. This felt as awkward and wrong as the time he'd asked Merle where babies came from.<p>

Carol must have sensed his awkwardness, because she opened her mouth to break the ice. "So, that man back there...was that your brother?"

He probably should have felt more alert at that question (knowledge is power, after all) but instead it made him feel just the opposite. Daryl exhaled calmly and cleared his throat, replying, "Uh...yeah. Yeah, he is."

She nodded, and continued. "The older one, I presume?"

Daryl sighed. He _hated_ it when people brought his age down on him. Yeah, he was younger than Merle. But it didn't make him any less important or any less smart. He immediately regretted taking the lure she presented with such personal questions. He wanted to change the topic. Now. Before it went any further south than it was already headed.

He pursed his lips and curtly replied, "Yeah, he is."

Carol nodded in thought. "Hm. I suppose that makes sense, although if I were being honest you seem more mature than he is."

He turned to her now, eyebrows pinched in surprise. "And why do ya say that?"

"I dunno," she said, still staring at the television. "The way you carry yourself, I guess. The way you act. I mean, I'm no expert or anything, but from what I've seen you're the only one with even a _lick_ of sense." She froze then, eyes wide as she twisted around to him and hastily added, "No offense to your brother, of course. I- I didn't mean-"

Daryl chuckled. "'s fine. Trust me, he's been called a lot worse'n 'senseless' over the years. I think he belongs in an insane asylum, m'self."

She stifled a laugh. "Okay. I just wanted to be sure since...well...you know."

_Since I'm practically a hostage at the mercy of two weirdos,_ she seemed to say.

Daryl's smile faded, though she wouldn't have noticed beneath his bandana, and the feeling of ease and happiness he felt earlier was now replaced with guilt. What was wrong with him? Really? Having the _gall_ to laugh and joke like it was nothing while they carefully danced around the fact that they'd kidnapped her and held her against her will like some kind of demented sickos? And God forbid if she ever found out the real reason she'd been nabbed in the first place.

Carol's smile died, and he began to stare a hole through the floor as he looked away.

The air became tense as silence ensued, and aside from the voiceovers and exaggerated sound effects of the cartoon playing over the tv, neither of them was able to find something to say to get back to where they were moments before.

After a couple of minutes, Carol cleared her throat and said, "So, tell me; have you lived here long?"

Daryl ceased his visual assault on the carpet and looked up at her, thankful for an easy question he could answer. "Uh, nah. Just moved here a few weeks ago."

"Where are you from?" she asked.

He avoided her gaze, deciding to dodge the question. "All over the place, really."

"So you move around a lot?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Hm."

"...What about you? You been here yer whole life?"

She smiled and looked away. "_God_, no. No, I moved here about eight years ago because I was...uh, avoiding someone."

His head perked up. "Really? Well, who was it?"

"A friend that I...did wrong. It- it's not really table-talk."

"I can handle it," he said, far more interested than he probably should have been.

"I- I really don't want to talk about it," she said, shaking her head and giving him a troubled smile.

"You sure?" he asked, trying one last time. "I've shot rabbits and gutted squirrels plenty o' times, so if it's somethin' gross, then-"

She laughed. "_No!_ No, it- it's not really _gross_. It's um...it's just something I don't want to talk about."

Daryl wanted to press further, but decided against it the moment he saw the tears building in her eyes. Whatever it was, it must have been bad. If he were being completely honest with himself it actually sparked his curiosity more, in a sick, twisted kind of way, but she had relented when he made it clear he didn't want to talk about Merle, so it was only fair that he do the same for her.

He leaned back on the couch, purposefully turning his attention back to the television, and Carol eventually did the same, silently thankful for the change of topic.

It was the least he could do.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I bet you all thought she was gonna say it was _Ed_ she was hiding from, didn't you? :P Well, you're wrong. I don't mind the drama of having Ed in Caryl AUs, but I feel like it's been done a lot...QUITE a lot. And 'I want to break free!' from all that, Queen song reference intended XD So can you guess who I'm replacing him with? :3**

**Anyway, I'll update with the next chapter tomorrow****. It's quite a bit longer than this one, so you should like it :)**


	8. Slap Jack and Late Night News

**A/N: 12/04/2014 Thank you, wildcow258 for your review. I'm glad you were able to gush over Daryl and cartoons again. Lol. And nope, it's not Ed. But going by the tv series I don't think it's that hard to figure out. More will be revealed on that in later chapters, though. Hopefully within the next few. Thanks again for your review! :)**

**This chapter is more plot-oriented, so that's why it's longer...sort of. **

**Reading time: 22 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter eight: Slap Jack and Late Night News~<p>

* * *

><p>"You've <em>never<em> played Slap Jack before?"

Daryl blushed at her question. "_No_...only card game I ever knew how to play was poker, and that was only cuz o' my brother."

Carol smiled with mirth at him from where she stood by the bathroom door.

After watching four episodes of Foghorn Leghorn, she had gone to the bathroom and found (well, 'noticed', as she put it) a deck of cards (in the _shower_, of all places) and immediately questioned him about it as soon as she was done with her business.

"It's probably the easiest card game you can play," she said easily. "Even easier than Go Fish."

Daryl scoffed from his spot on the couch. "So yer sayin' it's a kid's game."

"_Hardly_," she said, pretending to be offended...at least he _hoped_ she was pretending. "I'll have you know that it can be a _very_ fun game."

He merely rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else in protest as she made her way over to the coffee table and cleared a space through all the trash and month-old magazines laying on it. She set down the deck of cards, shuffling through them and tossing out all of the Jokers before dealing them both seven cards and setting the deck face down off to the side.

"Okay, so here's what you do," she said, and Daryl leaned over to half-heartedly pay attention. "You toss a card from your hand onto the table, like this." She took out a random card from her hand and tossed it face up on the table. Queen of Spades. "And if it's a Jack, you slap it."

"Well that's _dumb_," he said. "There's only four Jacks in a deck."

"I know," she said. "That's why it's so important. You keep tossing out cards until one of you tosses a Jack, and the first person to slap it gets all of the cards in the pile."

Now he felt stupid. "...Oh. So how do ya win?"

"Well, you keep playing until all of the Jacks are gone, and the person with the most cards in their pile is the winner."

"Pssht. That's _dumb_."

"Hey, you asked."

"No I didn't. You brought it up."

"Whatever." Carol exhaled, trying to hide how clearly disheartened she was, and began taking the cards and putting them back into the deck. "...Well, if I'm gonna be here a while then I need something to do, so, if you don't mind, I'll just play Solitaire-"

Daryl grabbed her wrist, stopping her from rearranging the cards. "Wait, look, I'm sorry, okay? It just seems stupid, is all. I'll play yer damn kiddie game."

When she smiled, he added, "But I _ain't_ sayin' I'm gonna like it."

* * *

><p>"DAMMIT!"<p>

Daryl cursed as he threw down his cards.

They had been playing Slap Jack for nearly three hours. And over the course of seventeen games, he had lost every. Single. One.

Carol happily took the last of the cards and piled them on her side of the table, not bothering to hide her smirk of victory as he continued to seeth.

"I thought you said this was 'sposed to be _fun_," he said accusingly, hardly amused.

"It _is_," she insisted. "...For me."

Daryl grumbled, briefly falling back on the couch and heaving a giant sigh before jerking forward again, determined as ever.

"Again."

"_Again?_" she asked, surprised.

"Again," he repeated. "I'm gonna _beat_ you, no matter _how_ long it takes."

Carol raised her eyebrows and gathered the cards. "Okay..."

She began to shuffle, and while Daryl waited impatiently for her to finish he noticed the twinge of a smirk tug at her lips. She probably thought he wouldn't catch it. He did.

"I'm _gonna_ do it," he said. "I'm _gonna_ beat you."

"Whatever you say," she said, shaking her head as laughter began to spill from her lips.

"I _will_," he insisted, eyebrows knitting into the tightest of knots.

"I don't doubt it."

"I'm gonna _win_ this game, and I'm gonna rub it in yer _face_ when I do."

"I look forward to it."

"_Good_. 'Cuz it's _comin'_."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Won't be laughin' when I _knock_ you off yer pedestal. My moment's gonna come."

"I have absolute faith in you."

"Pfft. Faith ain't gonna have nothin' to do with it."

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Daryl's moment did come.<p>

Granted, it was nearly two hours later, but it came, nonetheless.

They were nearing the end of their twenty-seventh game (but really, who was keeping track?) when Carol tossed the last of the Jacks into the pile.

Daryl saw his chance and shot his arm out to claim it. Carol saw it too, but at this point his arm was like lightning, and there was no stopping his destined victory.

Her hand was just a millisecond slower than his, but he hardly cared as it was _his_ palm that covered the card.

"HA!" he exclaimed. "Not so high on yer horse _now_, are ya? I kicked ya off yer damn throne!"

"Yep," she admitted, staring at the pile of cards he had won. "You beat me."

Unfortunately he wasn't about to stop there. Blame it on years of playing games with Merle, but Daryl Dixon was a gloater. A begrudging, sore losing, gloater. And poor Carol, pretty as she was, was no exception to the rule.

"How's it_ feel_ to be on the bottom after so long on top?"

"Pretty lonely," Carol said, and in his surge of victory he didn't notice the falseness in her tone.

"Yeah, thought so. Sorry to stain your 'spotless' record."

She smiled as though about to burst into laughter. "My 'record' is _hardly_ spotless-" her comeback died along with her smile, and she looked up at him from her spot on the floor.

Their eyes locked, and all the laughter and fun from just seconds ago melted away, and was replaced with...something else. Something he couldn't quite peg.

They stared at each other for _ages_, though in reality it was probably just a few seconds.

Carol was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. I was going to say your name and then...I realized I didn't know it. Ha."

Daryl paused, unsure how to reply.

Merle's voice echoed in his head. _Don't tell her yer _name_, numbskull! Oh sure, she'll _act_ like she cares. But the second she gets the chance she's gonna go runnin' to the cops. And we don't want _that_, now do we? So do yourself a favor and keep yer _trap_ shut._

Daryl swallowed, pushing the thoughts aside. His mind was made up.

Pulling nervously at his collar, he cleared his throat and replied, "Uh, it's...it's Daryl."

Her expression didn't change, but he could swear her eyes lit up. "Daryl?"

He nodded.

Carol looked up and gave him a small smile. "Well, Daryl, I'll have you know my Slap Jack record is _hardly_ spotless. In fact, I haven't won this much in a long, _long_ time."

He picked up on that one. "So yer sayin' I suck."

"I didn't say _that_."

"Close enough."

"Hey, you're the first person I've played with in _years_, okay?"

"Pfft. You mean first _victim_."

"Yeah, well. You got your 'revenge', so let's just leave it at that. Here, give me your cards so I can put these away."

She reached over to take the pile of cards on his side of the table, and Daryl froze when her hand swept over his.

She didn't seem to take notice, but it felt like his nerves were made of _lightning_ when she touched him, and in the best of ways. And now that his big head had deflated to a reasonable size, it was hard for him _not_ to notice.

He opened his mouth to say something (he didn't know what, but in his current state of mind it was probably going to be something stupid) but before he could, Merle burst through the door.

They both turned to look at him, neither missing the nearly broken door or the canvas bag overflowing with money in his right hand.

* * *

><p>His bandana was over his face (he must have figured if Daryl was stupid enough to let Carol out of her bindings once, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again) and his eyes wrinkled with happiness as he walked in the room, shutting the door behind him.<p>

"Well _hey_, man! Have a good day? 'Cause I sure as Hell did. Get over here and help me count this cash."

Daryl looked from Carol to his brother before reluctantly getting up from the couch and going to meet him, huffing angrily as he did so.

"Where the _hell've_ you been?" he hissed, hardly in the mood for his antics.

"Well I got a bag full o' _dough,_" Merle quietly replied, smirking. "Where do you _think_ I've been?"

Daryl pursed his lips to keep from saying something stupid and making things worse, but it didn't help the fact that his brother had just _ruined_ a perfectly good moment with Carol.

He supposed he couldn't really blame him (after all, how was _he_ supposed to know his brother was having the time of his life getting his butt kicked at a card game on the other end of that door?) but he did all the same. He just annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, rubbed him _completely_ the wrong way. Of course at the same time, they tended to do that to each other.

Merle glanced at Carol over Daryl's shoulder, all humor from his voice gone. "Little brother, I think we need to have a talk..._alone_." He pushed past Daryl and grabbed Carol by the arm, hauling her to her feet. "And _you_, ma'am, need to go back in that closet."

Daryl stepped forward, ready to knock some sense into him if he had to. "_Hey!_ Don't you _touch her!_"

Merle turned to him, brows raised, amused at his behavior. "_Weeeell!_ Gettin' a little cozy with the hostage, don't ya think?"

"I'll be fine, Daryl," Carol said, trying to defuse the situation.

Merle looked back at her, smile gone, and Daryl watched with baited breath as his older brother tightened his hold on her arm and dragged her over to the closet, shoving her inside and putting a chair under the doorknob.

He stalked over to Daryl and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, hauling him to the bedroom and slamming the door.

* * *

><p>"You mind tellin' me how in the <em>hell<em> she knows yer name?!" he barked, and Daryl fought right back.

"Because I _told_ her!"

"Oh, you _told_ her? Well that just solves everything, doesn't it?"

"_Hey! _None o' this woulda _happened_ if _you_ hadn't brought her here!"

"Hey, don't blame this on _me! _I just wanted you to get laid! Not _spill_ your whole life's story to some random woman!"

"Look, she _ain't_ just some random woman! She's not who you think she is-"

"_Please_, little brother. She's _exactly_ who I think she is."

"No she's _not!_ She's _different_-"

"All women are the same. Whores. Every last one of 'em."

"Would you shut yer mouth and just _listen_ to me fer a second?!"

"Or what? You gonna come over here and shut it for me?"

Daryl clenched his fists, knuckles turning white as his nostrils flared with anger.

He had _half_ a mind to just go ahead and slug him, but the other half - the dominant half - told him it wouldn't be good for Carol or her situation. He forced himself to calm down despite his rising blood pressure, and Merle calmly walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry to break up your 'tea time', but I think it's about time you quit playin' House and got to business. Now are you gonna do what I brought her here for you to do, or are ya gonna wimp out like some pansy?"

Daryl glared. "...I ain't doin' _nothin'_ to her."

He patted his shoulder. "Alright. Well, it's settled, then. I'll pack 'er up and send her back home tomorro-"

The words were out before he'd even thought them through. "_No!_"

Merle stared at him, surprised, and Daryl fumbled over himself to try and take it back. "I mean...I don't want her to leave yet."

Merle's brow wrinkled, and he held out his hands, exasperated. "Well make up yer _mind!_ You can't just keep 'er here like some kina _pet!_ Gotta make a _choice!_ Now which is it?"

Daryl looked at him for a long moment before finally answering, "...She's _stayin'_."

The words sounded good in his mind, but when they came out it left a bad taste in his mouth. Which was weird, because it sounded so right in his head. Though deep down, he knew the reason why.

The decision to make - the _right_ one - would be to let Merle take Carol and put her back where she belonged. In her house, with her family and friends and job and normal life - _no__t_ to keep her tucked away in a closet for the rest of her days.

Still, he wasn't about to take the words back, either. He wanted her to stay, and that was what she was going to do. It was selfish, it was cruel, and it was kind of morbid, but if this was going to be the only chance he had with her, then he wasn't about to let it go to waste. Conscience be damned.

Merle was quiet for a while after that, and Daryl wasn't sure if it was because of his decision, or the finality with which it was spoken.

"Well, I'll be damned...hahaha!"

Apparently, it was the former.

"_Ohh_ man, if that don't beat all! I offer to let her go, and here _you_ are tellin' me to keep 'er like some stray! And you call _me_ sick in the head! Hahaha!"

Daryl stood by, crossing his arms as he waited for him to stop.

"Okay, little brother. You win," he finally said, stepping forward and patting his shoulder. "We'll keep her. For now. But word to the wise, women don't like to be cooped up for long. She's not an animal. Ya can't just keep 'er locked up in that closet and then bring 'er out whenever ya wanna play."

Daryl shoved his hand away, offended. "Man, I ain't no _dummy!_ I _know_ that!"

"Okay. Just figured I'd give ya a refresher course, seein' as how you know _jack shit_ about girls."

"Man, _shut_ up."

"Haha!"

* * *

><p>After their 'agreement', Daryl went back to the closet to check on Carol.<p>

She was fine, no scrapes or bruises, and he let her use the bathroom before putting her back in the small confines of the closet.

"Sorry," he said as he wrung the duct tape around her wrists, taking extra care to be gentle. "Merle's kind of an asshole sometimes."

"It's fine," she said. "I'm just glad nothing bad happened."

"Yeah," he agreed, not looking her in the eyes. "Me too."

Daryl stood up, the blindfold still in his hands, and when Carol looked at him questioningly he said, "I don't think you'll need this anymore. Figured ya prob'ly got the whole damn house mapped out by now anyways."

She chuckled and ducked her head, and he did the same.

"...Thank you," she said, and he nodded in return. When he turned to close the door she added, "Good night."

He looked back at her, pausing for only a moment before replying, "...'Night."

And he shut the door.

* * *

><p>Daryl set out his pillow and covers on the couch and got ready for bed.<p>

He was tired, but not to the point where he wanted to go to sleep. Not just yet, anyways. If anything, he was bored. So, with nothing else to do, he switched on the tv.

Most of the stations were a whole lot of nothing - just sitcoms and paid programming - but eventually he settled on the news channel.

His attention was immediately caught when a newswoman appeared in front of the gas station he and Merle had robbed; the one Carol worked at.

He turned down the volume, not wanting anyone else to hear.

"Police are now investigating the disappearance of Carol Peletier, who worked at the gas station behind me."

Carol's picture popped up on the screen, and Daryl unconsciously leaned closer to the television.

"Coworkers say she was on her way home from work late at night when she was kidnapped, though they are unsure by whom. It is unclear if she is connected with the two armed gunmen that robbed the gas station earlier that same night, but police say they're doing everything they can to locate the missing woman. Back to you, John."

The screen cut to 'John', and Daryl curled his lip at the man's spotless face and gelled hair. "Thank you, Rhonda. Coming up next, are you caring for your pet properly? We'll tell you more, at eleven."

He held up the remote and turned off the tv.

Suddenly he didn't feel like curing boredom anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: News channels are so stupid :P I couldn't help parodying some of their 'dumber' stories here XD**

**Anyway, if you don't mind reading small spoilers for this story, I estimate that it will be between 16 and 18 chapters, and Carol won't be staying with Daryl and Merle for more than a few days.**

**'Til next time!**


	9. Awkwardness and Agendas

**A/N: 12/17/2014 Sorry I took so long updating this! I would've posted it a _week_ ago but I got hit with another idea for a Caryl fic and I figured I'd better write it down before I forgot. And then I thought of _another_ idea, and so I wrote that down too. And then I got busy with Christmas stuff...you know how it goes :P**

**I feel like Carol was OOC in the last two chapters, and I may go back and rewrite them a bit (nothing major, just Carol's behavior) but for now, I'll leave them the way they are. I hope to correct that OOCness in this chapter, though Carol's attitude towards Daryl and Merle is meant to lighten considerably anyway, so nothing too different from how she acted before.**

**Prettyprincess45: Thanks! Slapjack IS pretty fun. I'm glad you think I write humor so well because I love writing it XD**

**TheConjuringMind: Thank you! I'm truly flattered that you think this story is so good, especially the Dixon bromance, lol (=^.^=)**

**wildcow258: Thank you! Yes, you never know _what_ you're gonna find in a single man's apartment (or in this case, two single brothers). No, it's not Ed that Carol's hiding from. But when it's finally revealed I don't really think it'll be that much of a shocker. And don't worry, it'll all work out in the end ;)**

**annibelle: Thank you! Unusual is good! :D **

**Tinkerbell99: Yes, poor Daryl :( More will be revealed about Carol in the later chapters. And yeah she doesn't really seem to mind being kidnapped all that much, but she's really just trying to make the best of her situation. Thanks for the review! :)**

**Reading time: 13 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter nine: Awkwardness and Agendas~<p>

* * *

><p>Daryl shifted in his seat, chewing slowly on his cereal as he awkwardly switched his gaze between the two people sitting at the counter with him.<p>

Carol sat across from him, keeping her eyes downcast as she quietly ate her breakfast, trying to ignore the way Merle was staring at her.

The air was so tense a _gunshot_ could have gone off and it wouldn't have rattled anyone.

After having yet another debate with his brother over the wellbeing of their 'hostage' (particularly the subject of her blindfold) Daryl had allowed Carol to have breakfast with them. It had seemed like a good idea at the time - Merle could warm up to her and the three of them could sit down and talk like normal adults - but now he wasn't so sure.

At like..._all_.

Daryl swallowed his food, deciding that he would be the first to speak.

"Uh..._so?_ Either o' you guys want any more bacon?"

They answered at the same time.

"No, I'm fine-"

"As a matter o' fact-"

Merle gave her a look, and Carol silenced, ducking her head and allowing him to finish.

He turned back to Daryl. "As a matter o' _fact_...yes I would, little brother."

Daryl gave him a warning look, but stood up from the counter and obeyed nonetheless.

He walked over to the opposite counter and grabbed the plate of bacon, spinning on his heel and setting it down between Carol and Merle.

"Well _thank_ you, little brother," Merle smiled, taking a piece. "How very _polite_ of you."

Daryl glared at him as he sat back down.

He knew he was hating the whole 'play nice' rule he had set down for Carol's sake, but at least he was trying. To be honest, he'd be worried if he _wasn't_ pissed off - that would mean he was planning something. But after reasoning with him on the grounds that women generally didn't want to make daring escapes from their captors if they were nice to them, and therefore less likely to run to the cops, he agreed. Begrudgingly, of course, but it was agreed nonetheless.

Carol had barely spoken a word since they had all woke up.

He reasoned that it was just because Merle was there, but something churned in his gut that told him that wasn't entirely the case. He hoped it wasn't because of something he had said or did. He couldn't think of anything that would have offended her or put her off, but knowing his luck, his dumb ass probably had _himself_ to blame for her closed off behavior.

Daryl exhaled, his breath hot against his face under his bandana, and went back to his cereal.

* * *

><p>It was really weird (and not to mention hard) to eat with something over your face, and Merle was sure to bitch to him about that sooner or later - he was getting kind of tired of it himself - but it was better to be safe than sorry.<p>

Then again, he wasn't exactly playing it safe by letting Carol run free around the apartment in the first place, but he argued in his mind that it wasn't as bad as letting her see their faces and being able to identify them. It was quite a stretch, but still.

In his mind, it was okay.

In Merle's, it _wasn't_.

"Man, I can't _take_ this shit much longer!" His big brother hissed. "This is damned _ridiculous!_ I can't even take a _dump_ without wearin' this stupid shit on my face!"

Daryl flinched as he ripped the bandana off his face and hurled it across the living room, steam practically coming out of his ears.

"Man, it's just fer a couple o' _days_, it ain't like-"

"_No_," he said, pointing an accusing finger as he walked up to him. "If we keep lettin' this go the way it is, it ain't gonna _be_ just a 'couple more days'. It's gonna turn into a couple more _weeks_, and then _months_, and then...well _hell_, we may as well just _adopt_ 'er!"

Daryl pursed his lips, wanting nothing more than to rebuke him, to tell him he was _wrong_. But he couldn't.

Because he wasn't wrong.

He was right.

If they kept at the pace they were going now, kept doing things the way they were doing them, Carol would come to know too much, and she would all but be _forced_ to stay with them. And they couldn't do that. _He_ wouldn't do that.

He opened his mouth to speak, but just then the bathroom door opened, and Carol emerged.

Both of their heads turned to look at her, and she stood cautiously by the door as she looked between the two of them and the obvious tension in the air.

"Is...something wrong?" she asked, brows pinched.

Daryl opened his mouth again, but Merle beat him to it.

"_No_, no trouble! Not at all! Why, we were jus' discussin' yer _bedding_ arrangements! Can't have ya sleepin' in a _closet_ fer the duration o' yer stay, now, can we?"

Daryl gave his brother a 'what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about?' look, becoming worried when he smirked mischievously at him in return.

"_Naw_...in fact, _Daryl_ here was jus' volunteerin' to get ya somet'n' more _comfortable_ to sleep on. He's always been the noble type."

This time, Daryl stepped in to voice his objections. "Man, what the hell're you _talkin'_ about-"

He held up a hand to silence him. "Little brother. _Please_. No need to be humble, we all know how much you care fer the little lady. It'll be gettin' dark here in about six hours. Ain't got no time to waste now, do we?"

When he made no move to leave, Merle clapped his hands. "Come on, now! Chop, chop! Mattresses don't buy themselves!" He took out a wad of cash from his pocket and tossed it to him. "Go on, now! _Get!_"

Daryl shifted on his feet, unsure of what to do.

He knew what he was trying to do: he wanted to get him out of there so he could be alone with Carol. For what reason, he didn't know. But it made him uneasy.

Scratch that, it made him _frantic_.

It wasn't that he thought Merle would _hurt_ Carol - though he wasn't above hitting a woman, he was no beater - it was more along the lines of he was afraid of what he would _say_ to her. The _last_ thing he needed was for his brother to 'help' him get into her pants. Besides, he didn't want that anyway. He was an introvert, and on top of that he was insecure. And he was _not_ about to hop into bed with someone he barely knew, let them see his scars...even if it was someone as pretty as Carol.

Carol's gaze shifted unsteadily from Merle to him, looking guarded but slightly confused, and ultimately Daryl decided to just go with whatever hair-brained scheme his brother had planned out in his head.

He knew he wouldn't hurt her, and he knew that if he tried to object he'd just end up making _him_ look like the ass, so it was better to just take the easy way out and avoid conflict. Besides, it was important for Carol to feel as un-threatened as possible, hopefully to the point where they could let her go and leave each other well enough alone without involving the police...hopefully.

Daryl sighed, scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "_Whatever_..."

He turned on his heel to head for the door, stuffing the wad of cash in his pocket as he left their apartment in search of a mattress store, missing the victorious smirk that Merle sent in his direction.

* * *

><p>Daryl returned home some twenty minutes later (which was about nineteen minutes later than he would have liked) with a fairly good-sized mattress.<p>

It was actually a blow-up mattress.

But a mattress nonetheless.

Daryl pulled his bandana up over his nose, swallowing thickly.

He practically _kicked_ the door open and tossed the box containing his purchase into the room, more than nervous about what Merle had been saying to Carol while he was gone.

The two were sitting on either end of the beat up couch, and they simultaneously looked over at Daryl as though he were _insane_ for bursting through the door. He stared at them for a moment, noticing immediately what was amiss.

Merle wasn't wearing his bandana.

The thing was probably still lying in a corner somewhere from where he'd thrown it before, but he seemed _far_ too comfortable to be in any hurry to go pick it up. It was too late now, anyway, he supposed - Carol had already seen his face when she'd come out of the bathroom, he was sure of it. Even though she had averted her eyes it was obviously too late. She knew what his brother looked like. So why was she smiling, and not storing that information away and keeping it safe for later use?

"_Well_..." Merle grinned, arms resting on the back of the couch. "I see you finally showed up. Honestly, I figured you'd take longer. They have a sale at La-Z Boy's 'r somet'n'? Haha!"

Daryl glared at him, shutting the door behind him and pushing the oversized box into the living room.

He shoved it over onto its side so he could rip off the price tag and open it up, dragging out the folded square of plastic and fabric as he purposefully avoided their gazes.

Setting the mattress aside, he reached into the box and took out the directions (or what he _assumed_ to be the directions, he didn't really give them a good look) tossing them in a corner behind him as he reached back in and took out what he was looking for: the automatic air pump.

He set it on the coffee table and kicked the box out of the way, pulling the mattress back in front him so he could fold it out.

Merle chuckled from his place on the couch. "Was this the best they had at the Ghetto Store? That thing don't look good enough for a _dog_ ta sleep on!"

"Ya only gave me twenty_ bucks!_" he snapped, shutting his mouth when he noticed Carol flinch.

Merle scoffed. "Pfft. Boy, I gave you a _wad_ o' cash-"

"It was nothin' but _fives_ and _ones,_" He shot back, making an effort to contain his anger.

Merle put his hands up. "_Woah_, no need for hostilities! So I made a mistake, it happens. It's not like you weren't able to get anything. It looks like a decent bed. Good job."

By the time he had finished, Daryl was ready to jump up and smash his face in.

He _hated_ it when he went all 'nice guy' on people, _especially_ when it was obvious that he was just manipulating them for whatever angle he was working. But this was a special case because the person he was manipulating was _Carol_, who was probably the only other human being besides his brother in his entire _life_ that he had ever even come _close_ to forming some semblance of a relationship with (platonic or otherwise) and that shit was grating on his nerves.

But if he beat the crap out of him like he _wanted_ to, it would only further his twisted agenda (whatever it was) so he really had no choice but to keep his damned feelings to himself and make sure his damn mouth stayed shut.

Merle was practically _waiting_ for him to slip up.

Well _too bad,_ because he wasn't about to let that happen.

"Well, little brother. It's been fun, but I'm gonna crash. Having mentally stimulating conversations with beautiful women really _drains_ a man."

Unfortunately, it sounded a lot easier than it actually was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Uh-oh, what could that mean? Does Merle want to make things better for Daryl, or worse? Read to find out! :D **

**Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to say that I watched The Boondock Saints for the first time ever recently. For those who don't know, it's the film that Norman Reedus (aka Daryl) is most famous for. I loved it. Seriously. I had a bromance _overload_ XD**

**Anyway yeah, go ahead and read the next chapter! :)**


	10. Mattresses and Spilled Beans

**A/N: I've got two more Caryl fics up, so if anyone's interested they can go to my profile page and check them out. One's a humorous oneshot and the other's sort of a vignette, which by definition: refers to a short simple story that focuses solely on exploring a poignant moment, impressionistic idea, or thoughtful character study rather than developing plot, action, or characterization. **

**I was _gonna_ say drabble, but those are generally under 100 words, so, that wouldn't have been right XD**

**Reading time: 8 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter ten: Mattresses and Spilled Beans~<p>

* * *

><p>Daryl sat cross-legged on the living room floor, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the mattress to fill with air.<p>

Merle was passed out in the bedroom, having gotten himself drunk on a six-pack, and Carol sat with her legs tucked under herself on the couch, idly keeping an eye on him and twirling a particularly long curl on her head.

He had hoped that with Merle gone, she'd be more vocal, but that didn't seem to be the case. If anything, she seemed even _more_ closed off. Happier, yes, but still unwilling to engage in conversation. He thought of opening his mouth to break the ice, but was too afraid he would only end up making things worse with his dumb mouth.

Of course, that was fifteen minutes ago.

Daryl shifted his position on the floor as he held the electric air pump in place, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"...So, what'd you an' Merle talk about?"

She looked at him. "_Merle?_"

Shit, he hadn't told her his brother's name yet.

He momentarily pursed his lips, deciding to just roll with it. "Yeah. What'd he say to you?"

Her eyes shifted downwards. "_Nothing_, he just...nothing, really. Why?"

Obviously, he needed to be more specific.

"Did he _say_ anything 'bout me?"

Her lips puckered slightly and her eyebrows lifted. "Um...w- well, yes. I mean, nothing _bad_, it was just..." when he gave her a look, she simply said, "Yes."

He looked away. "Hmph."

Carol fidgeted in his peripheral vision. "...It...it wasn't anything bad. He just...told me about your childhood."

His neck nearly _snapped_ as he turned his head to look at her again, feeling rather panicked at the plethora of things Merle could have told her.

"...Well, what'd he _say?_" He asked, tone a bit more curt than he'd intended.

She gaped at him like a fish out of water, obviously wishing she could take the words and put them right back in her mouth, but nevertheless, answered. "Uh, he- he told me _lots_ of things. Uh...he-"

"Like _what?_" He asked, more insistent.

Carol looked to the ceiling, trying to pick a topic.

He'd obviously told her a lot if she had to think about it.

"Okay," she said. "Well...he told me about the time you and he outran the cops in a go-kart when you were seven."

A smile tugged at his lips at the fond memory, and he was thankful he had something covering his face so she didn't see. "Really, now?" He mused. "And what else did he say?"

She relaxed her position on the couch, relieved that he wasn't angry with her.

"Oh, uh...well, he...he told me about the time he beat up your neighbor because they'd hired someone to rough you up."

He laughed at that. "Ha! Yeah. He ended up havin' to take on an entire _bar_..."

"Yeah, he said that!" She said, smiling.

They stared at each other for a long moment, smiling at age-old memories that only one of them had been fortunate enough to experience (or unfortunate, depending on your point of view) and Daryl could swear his heart was having palpitations under her gaze.

"...Are...you going to get that?"

He snapped out of his trance, following the trail of her eyes, and found that the mattress was inflated - to the point of nearly _bursting_.

"Shit!"

He fumbled to shut the air pump off, yanking it away and letting some of the excess air out before plugging the hole in the bed.

If he hadn't had it covered, he was _sure_ she'd be laughing at his beet-red face.

He coughed. "Well there's your bed. It ain't _heated_ or nothin' but it beats sleepin' in a closet."

She smiled softly at him. "Thank you. I know you didn't have to do this."

He stood up, looked at the floor. "It was nothin'."

They waited in relative silence, save for Merle's snoring, and Carol spoke again before things got too awkward.

"_So_," she said, clapping her hands. "Trade you places?"

Daryl lifted his head to look at her, finally having found his nerve. "Uh...yeah, sure."

She stood up and he moved forward, trying to keep the heat from flooding up the back of his neck as she brushed past him. It was pretty pathetic, but this was the closest he'd ever been to a woman, and even _that_ was only because he'd kidnapped her.

Of course, he wasn't about to tell _her_ that.

As Carol sat down on her new bed, Daryl lay down on the couch. He tossed her a thin blanket, the one he had been using the past few nights before, and she muttered a low 'thank you' as he switched off the lights.

The room was flooded with darkness...

And then awkwardness.

He lay staring up at the blackness he knew to be the ceiling, trying his damnest to get out the two little words that he knew would clear the air again so he could just shut his eyes and go to _sleep_.

_Just get it over with,_ his mind told him. _It's two damn words, what the hell's the matter with you? It shouldn't be that hard to say it! People say it all the time! Little _kids_ say it more often than you do! Why are you such a dumbass? Why are you having so much trouble with this? Why-_

"Good night."

He froze, surprised at the broken silence, but relieved all the same as he _finally_ felt as if he could get the words out. It was always so much easier to react to someone else's conversation than it was to start your own. Or at least, for Daryl it was.

Turning his head towards her, he replied in a low but soft voice, "G'night."

He stared back at the ceiling, a feeling of calm washing over him, and he closed his eyes.

He couldn't see it, so he really couldn't be sure, but he swore he heard her smile as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Isn't that sweet? Daryl didn't even have anything to worry about. Merle took care of him, building him up in Carol's eyes with crazy stories and all that :)**

**SPOILER ALERT: Carol's going to be leaving in the next chapter. I won't say how, but you'll see. In the meantime, feel free to share your theories on how it's gonna happen ;)**

**Though I doubt if anyone's interested (considering this is a Caryl fic) I'm thinking of getting a Bethyl fanfic up soon, modern AU. What do you think? I've also got several other Caryl ideas, most of which are _not_ AUs, so don't hesitate to share your thoughts :)**

**'Til next time!**


	11. Lessons With Merle and Daring Escapes

**A/N: 12/26/2014 Sorry it took over a _week_ for me to update, I got overwhelmed with Christmas stuff (Merry belated Christmas, btw!).**

**I Love Fanfics: Hey there! Again (lol)! Thanks for your review, I hope you like this chapter. And I will! :D**

**wildcow258****: Hey, thanks for the review! Come up with any ideas on Carol's departure? Anyway I totally understand about your feelings on Bethyl. Most Caryl fans aren't Bethyl fans too (I'm probably one of the few people on _Earth_ who ship both) so it's cool. Thanks for being nice about it though :)**

**Prettyprincess45: Thanks again for your review, I love making people laugh ^^ And oh, okay. May I ask why you don't ship Bethyl anymore? I can't think of a single pairing I ever just 'stopped' shipping :/** **Anyway, prepare! For Carol is about to make her_ daring_ escape!**

**Guest****: Hi, lisarosered! I love Caryl too! I hope you had a fan-TASMICAL Christmas, and I also hope you like this chapter! ^^**

**Reading time: 8 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter eleven: Lessons with Merle and Daring Escapes~<p>

* * *

><p>The sound of screaming and yelling was hardly ideal for <em>anyone<em> to wake to, let alone Daryl Dixon.

He had barely opened his eyes when Carol's high-pitched voice jolted him awake and he fell off the couch in his panic.

He fumbled getting up, clawing at the tops of the couch and coffee table as he hurried to straighten himself and see what was wrong, his bandana twisted halfway around his face in the wrong direction.

He watched, confused as Merle dragged Carol into the apartment and shut the door, hissing at her to be quiet.

"_Hush up,_ woman! You don't keep yer mouth shut I'll break yer teeth in! Now _shut up!_"

Ignoring Daryl completely, Merle dragged a crying Carol past the closet and all but _threw_ her into the bedroom, shutting the door and turning to look angrily back at his brother.

"What in the Holy HELL were you THINKIN'?!" He shouted, and Daryl jumped at his seething tone.

He had _never_ seen Merle this angry before, not since the time he'd almost gotten himself killed messing around with his motorcycle when he was twelve.

"What kind of a DUMBASS doesn't tie up the hostage before goin' to BED?! _Who_ in their right MIND-"

"HEY!" Daryl shot back, ready to defend himself. "_I_ wasn't the one passed out DRUNK in the bedroom! So don't you go _blamin_' this on _me_-"

"Aw, _please_," Merle waved him off. "This has _nothin'_ to do with me! I wasn't the one who wanted to keep 'er here in the first place! _You_ were!"

"Don't go _puttin'_ this on _me!_ I didn't ask you to kidnap 'er like some _psycho!_"

"But you _did_ ask me to keep her here! So _that_ one's on you, little brother!"

"Hey, _I_ didn't-"

"There's no need to shout," Merle said, suddenly dropping his voice to a normal volume. He must have been thinking of the neighbors. "Now let's _talk_ about this like normal gentlemen. Now, you and I _both_ know that I'm...more _experienced_, in these matters-"

Daryl scoffed. "Pfft. What 'matters'? Don't nothin' _matter_ to you."

"Matters of the heart, son. Now-"

"Pssht. More like matters of your-"

"_Anyway_, I know women. I know what they like. And I know what they don't. And what they _don't_ like is-"

Daryl burst out laughing, though there was nothing humorous about it. "Oh, my _God!_ Don't tell me yer about to give me a goddamned _love_ lesson!" He spat out the word 'love' like it was poison. "That's real _rich_ comin' from you!"

Merle held out his arms. "Little brother, _please_. I'm so good, I can read women just by lookin' at their hands and nothin' else. For example-"

Just then, Carol emerged from the bedroom.

Both their heads turned to look at her.

And then at the barrel of her gun.

"If she's holdin' a _gun_," Merle continued, putting his hands up along with his brother. "Chances are, she might be upset."

Carol's eyes flitted to him in irritation, but kept her mouth shut as she kept Merle's gun pointed at them and rotated towards the front door.

She stopped just beyond the hallway (if you could even _call_ it that, it was a pretty damn short hallway) and the Dixon brothers now stood by the television, just beyond the blow-up mattress and coffee table.

"...I won't tell the police," she said, looking directly at Daryl. "I owe you that much."

Backing carefully away, she reached behind her and groped for the doorknob.

Daryl took the smallest step forward, desperately wracking his brain for a reason she should stay.

"Y...you don't even know where you _are,_" he said.

She smiled at him, a small, soft gesture. "I know where I'm _going_. And that's good enough."

She opened the door, backed out into the hallway, briefly looked from side to side to see if anyone was around, and said, "Goodbye, Daryl."

He opened his mouth to say something, but found that nothing was coming out.

_Goodbye_.

Carol shut the door and severed their eye contact, her light footsteps pounding in his ears as she ran down the hallway, out the door, and out of his life forever.

* * *

><p>Merle dropped his hands, a chuckle rising from his throat.<p>

"Well don't that beat all? Here we are, kidnappin' 'er so I could get my gun back and you could finally experience the pleasures of woman, and now we're back to square one! _Shoot_, you'd think you at _least_ woulda hit that before things went to shit! Haha! _Man..._I remember a time..."

As Merle continued his one-sided conversation, Daryl stared forlornly at the door, trying in vain to see past the scratched wood to the space where Carol had been standing moments before.

He knew he should have been happy about it - Carol was safe, and neither of them would go to jail for what they'd done (who could ask for a better turnout than _that?_) - but the fact was that, in all honesty, he wasn't. It was selfish and maybe even a little insane, but he wished he could have had more time with her. Which technically translated to 'he wished she wouldn't have found that gun so he could keep her locked in his shitty apartment a little longer', but still. His intentions weren't nefarious, so that had to count for something. Right?

Either way, Carol was gone now, and she wasn't coming back.

He honestly had no idea what he was going to do now; what _had_ they done before she'd come into their lives? _Really?_ He couldn't recall a time before Carol. Not that it mattered. Merle was sure to think of something. He always did, so why lose faith now.

Amidst his depressing thoughts, Daryl was vaguely aware of Merle clapping him on the shoulder.

"Ah, don't worry, little brother. You'll get over her. Other fish in the sea an' all that. Now...what's in the fridge?"

He left to gravitate towards the kitchen, apparently satisfied with their 'heart to heart' talk, and as he opened the refrigerator to choose between ketchup, mustard, leftover takeout or age-old pizza, Daryl knew deep down that his big brother was _wrong_.

He'd _never_ get over Carol.

He would spend the rest of his miserable life wishing and regretting and fantasizing and doing anything BUT getting over that woman.

Because even though he didn't have the first clue what love was, he was pretty sure it started with sweaty palms and queasy stomachs and dysfunctional brain cells and all that shit, and he was _way_ past that. And by Dixon standards, if you still wanted to see the girl after you'd gotten what you wanted, you were in _deep_. So one could only _assume_ that in _his_ case, he was head over heels.

No, _worse_ than head over heels. He was practically _infatuated_. Obsessed. A hopeless romantic. And to his knowledge, there was no way to cure or get rid of it.

He wished he could have said something, _anything_ to help her realize that she was far more than some random woman who'd just happened to get the short end of the stick on her way home one night, but he couldn't.

Because Carol was gone.

And she wasn't coming back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Poor Daryl :( Don't worry, this is not the end. I'm surprised none of you guys commented on the fact that Carol went to bed in the previous chapter without being tied up ;)**

**Anyway, the next chapter will have them reunited (though temporarily) with a cameo from Michonne! I'll try and have it out before the year is over!**

**Oh, and btw, what did you guys get for Christmas? Don't hesitate to share in a review (if you're comfortable, of course) I love reading stuff like that :D**

**Til next time!**


	12. Time Apart and Mighty Fine Coincidences

**A/N: 01/12/2015 ****_Man_ it feels good to be back on this story!**

**I found this really awesome song a few days ago on iTunes and I just HAD to get it. The lyrics really remind me of this story. Feel free to look it up on YouTube and see if you agree. It's called _Female Robbery_ by _The Neighbourhood_ :)**

** Also, Michonne will be making a cameo here, so pay attention!**

**I Love Fanfics****: Ahaha 'Darry'. That's funny, glad you kept it in your review rather than fixing it XD And stop chasing down Carol! She's coming back! (even though it's not of her own free will, but still) lol I love how you don't hold back on your feelings for Merle. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :D **

**wildcow258****: Thank you! I'm glad I was able to make you smile (or laugh or chuckle or whatever) :) I actually got the 'when a woman's holding a gun, she might be upset' joke from a humor website, good stuff. Don't worry, Daryl won't be heartbroken much longer. Hope you enjoy this update! :D**

**gibbymom****: Don't worry! Daryl won't be sad for much longer! Thanks for your review! :D**

**Prettyprincess45****: Daww, thanks ^^ Sweet Christmas gifts, clothes are awesome (I _wish_ I woulda got some clothes) and so are headphones and uggs. I got Alien: Isolation for the 360, the Alien film quadrilogy, Nutella, comics, shampoo/conditioner, a gift card, and some other small stuff. I'm pretty happy about it. And oh, okay. So you stopped shipping Bethyl when Beth died. That makes sense. Perfect sense, actually. Strangely enough, I kind of ship them more now that Beth's gone, though my love for the pairing is totally overshadowed and outshined by my undying affection for Caryl X3 Hope you enjoy this update, and even though it's SUPER late, I hope you had a Merry Christmas too! :) **

**Reading time: 10 mins.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

><p>Chapter twelve: Time Apart and Might Fine Coincidences~<p>

* * *

><p>The two weeks that followed Carol's absence had been nothing less than hard.<p>

He'd tried staying away from the area where she worked, but that strategy only lasted a mere four days before he found himself at the very gas station he and Merle had robbed that fateful night. He went there every day for a week straight under the ruse that he was buying candy or beer, only to be disappointed each time when she wasn't there. And it took him a few more days still before he worked up the gall to ask the blonde girl (Andrea, if he remembered right) what had happened to her.

He knew he probably didn't have to worry about her recognizing him (half his face had been covered when they'd met and that _was_ over two weeks ago) but there was still that sliver of a chance that he'd say the wrong thing or make the wrong mannerism and she'd be calling the cops on him faster than he could say 'oops'. Still, he braved the risks and asked about Carol's whereabouts, and between her questioning look and his racing heartbeat he got his answer. _She'd quit,_ she said. _Started working somewhere else. Couldn't handle working there anymore. _He went home that day feeling dejected and hopeless, and it didn't help when he turned on the tv that night.

Carol was on every local news station.

She was the headliner, the 'success story'.

He watched for two short minutes as she was bombarded with questions and microphones and camera flashes as she made her way up the sidewalk and into her house, saying she had 'no comment' on her disappearance or kidnapping, only that she was glad to be back home. He felt a wave of gratefulness and pride as she shut the door to her home and the camera cut back to the anchorman.

She'd told the truth; she wouldn't say anything about him or Merle. She'd kept her promise. He wasn't about to say 'I told you so' and rub it in his brother's face, but he knew he could trust her. She was just that kind of person. And he just...knew.

If only he knew of a way to see her again as well.

* * *

><p>Daryl inwardly cursed as he followed his older brother across the parking lot and pulled his bandana over his nose.<p>

Their target was the tiny _Knicks and Knacks_ store, which Merle knew to have money because he'd done a few covert drug deals there. Daryl was in no mood to be robbing places and bumming for cash so soon, but their previous 'savings' had been spent when their shit-car decided to break down, so up until now he'd kept his mouth shut and hadn't complained. Of course, that was _before_ his conscious had decided to get the better of him.

"Man, why we gotta keep _doin'_ this?" he asked, keeping his voice low as they approached the automatic doors. "We don't even got a getaway car if things go wrong! The damn thing's sittin' in a mechanic's shop!"

"_S'cuse me?_" Merle whispered harshly. "_You_ got any cash? 'Cuz if you do then we can just turn right around and scuttle on outta here right now. Unless of course you don't an' you just _wanna_ spend the next month an' a half sleepin' in a cardboard box. Otherwise just keep yer _mouth shut_ an' this'll go off without a hitch. Now _stay focused!_"

Daryl wanted to say more, but pursed his lips as they crossed the sliding glass barrier and into the store, gripping the pistol in the pocket of his jacket.

It was nighttime, but inside, the building was even darker.

The entire place was decked out with ultra-violet lights, and anything white glowed with a neon intensity that momentarily messed up his eyes. A lone worker stood behind the counter at the end of the room, a black woman with long, thick dreadlocks and a mean, hard stare. He suddenly got the feeling that this wasn't going to 'go off without a hitch', but he pushed the thought aside and followed his brother as he strolled up to the counter.

"Cold night?" the woman asked, jutting her chin out to gesture to the bandanas over their faces. Her voice reminded him of a panther's, low and predatory. This woman meant business.

"Like you wouldn't believe, sister," Merle grinned, holding up his gun as Daryl did the same.

The woman's expression didn't change, but she held her hands up as instructed.

"Good girl," Merle said, nodding. "Now how's about you turn around and open up that box on that there shelf? We'll make things simple and just take it all."

She glared at him, the whites of her eyes glowing under the violet lights, but obeyed nonetheless.

Daryl swallowed nervously and adjusted his grip on his pistol, shifting on his feet as he gave a sidelong glance at Merle.

He didn't know why, but that feeling that something was about to go wrong _fast_ had returned with the force of a _hurricane_, and it was so strong that he was having trouble keeping his palms from sweating and his breathing under control.

He told himself he didn't have to worry (he and Merle had done this a _thousand_ times, why should now be any different?) but he could've told himself that a _million_ times and it wouldn't have made any difference.

Something was about to go wrong.

He just knew it; his gut told him so.

And as the woman turned, _whirled_ around with not money but a sword, and swiftly knocked the gun from his brother's hand with the quickness of _lightning_, he realized that he should have listened.

* * *

><p>They ran out of there faster than their feet could carry them.<p>

Daryl hurried to regain his footing as Merle grabbed him by his jacket and made a hard left behind the store, weaving around trash bags and dumpsters as they ran down the nearest alley.

They ran for quite some time, making an inumerable amount of lefts and rights between buildings and across streets before they felt comfortable enough to slow down. They had slowed down to a walk now, both out of breath and unsure of where they were, but luckily for him Merle always had a quick fix for everything.

"Quick, in here!"

Merle grabbed him by his sleeve and shoved him into the backseat of a random unlocked car, checking briefly for cops or witnesses before getting in himself.

"We'll have to wait here 'til the noise dies down," he said quietly, hurriedly pushing him off the seat and onto the floor as a police cruiser whizzed past them, sirens blaring.

"Man, _screw_ you!" Daryl spat, glaring up at him from the floor of the car. "This is all your fault! I ain't _waitin'_ in some stranger's car for somet'n _you_ did!"

Merle looked from the street outside to his little brother, surprised and angry at his outburst.

"_Excuse_ me?" he hissed, lowering his face to glare menacingly at him. "In case you don't remember, you were there right along with me! Don't blame this on me!"

Daryl's face twisted into one of disgust. He was _sick_ of being dragged all over the place and letting himself take the fall for things his brother did. "Man, forget this. I'm outta here."

He moved to get up, but Merle pushed him back down, taking his gun and aiming it in his face as he crouched over him. "_Hey!_ This wasn't just _you_ or _me_. It was the _both_ of us! So don't go puttin' this _shit_ on me just 'cuz _you_ suddenly got a conscience. You _ain't_ no better'n me. Remember that."

Rage bubbled up inside him, rising through his chest and up his throat, and he was hardly aware of it when he lifted his head and spat the vile emotion in his brother's face.

Merle slowly reached up with his free hand, shocked as he wiped away at the spit that had made its way into his eye.

"Why you little _shit_..."

He hadn't even had time to widen his eyes as Merle's hands flew around his neck, the gun tossed beneath the driver's seat and all but forgotten as he focused all his energy into throttling his little brother.

Daryl struggled under his weight, twisting and writhing as he tried in vain to loosen the tightening hold on his throat. He reached up and punched Merle in the face, but that only proved to further deplete his own air supply. Strength dwindling, he reached up with both hands and wrapped them around his brother's neck, squeezing as hard as he could.

The two shook each other vehemently, both wanting to knock the other's lights out, and if it weren't for the sudden movement outside they probably would have stubbornly gone on until someone's veins burst and their eyes popped out from the pressure on their neck.

Daryl had been the first to notice, and he let go of Merle completely before the older man realized someone was trying to get into the vehicle they were occupying.

Anger quickly made way for Panic, and Merle flattened himself atop his brother as they both held their breath and stared underneath the driver's seat, just in time to see the opened door and then the small pair of feet that made their way to the gas pedals.

They stayed like that, frozen in suspense as they heard the engine start and felt the car shift forward as the driver made their way down the street.

Suddenly remembering their fight, Daryl reached up and flicked Merle on the back of the head. He may have been the more mature out of the two of them, but that didn't mean he wouldn't seek revenge for his brother's stupidity.

Surprisingly, Merle did little more than glare at him in return.

Instead, he turned his attention to the gun that was sitting innocently under the seat, just _waiting_ for a jerk or sudden stop so it could bump into the person's foot and be discovered. And if that happened, they were _both_ screwed.

Merle slowly reached over with his right hand, easing underneath the seat and towards the gun.

He reached it just as the car came to a slow stop, and Daryl had little to no warning as his brother leapt up from the floor and put the gun to the driver's head.

"Keep your hands on the wheel," he whispered dangerously, and the person gasped.

Daryl watched from the floor as his brother's expression went from apprehensive to smug to humorous.

"Weeeell," he began, grinning from ear to ear. "Ain't _this_ a mighty fine coincidence?"

He moved into a more comfortable position on the bench seat, and, curious, Daryl did the same.

He stared into the rearview mirror and his eyes widened; not from fear or happiness, but from pure shock.

It wasn't the woman from the store, or a cop or one of Merle's drug buddies whose reflection stared back at him.

It was Carol's.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ahaha I do that so often. 'Gasp! It was Carol!' Lol but I love it :D The whole time I was writing the Michonne scene, I was thinking of the store they robbed in Fun With Dick And Jane (the Jim Carrey version). Couldn't help myself, I guess.**

**So yeah, in the next chapter we'll get to see who Carol's 'running' from (if it's been too long and you've forgotten you can go back to the last half of chapter 7 real quick for a refresher). I'm excited. Anyone else excited? Yes? No?**

**'Til next time!**


End file.
